


The Challenge of Being We

by jlillymoon



Series: The Challenges [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:18:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlillymoon/pseuds/jlillymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Three of the Challenges Series</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I ope you all stayed tuned from the last two parts. This picks up where the other one left off. And there are a lot of feels and the smut is coming. I promise.   
> Thank you all for keeping with me.   
> MAFM you are fantastic! Thanks for keeping up with my mania!

The Challenge of Being We

Part 3

Chapter 1- Fall Out

Mrs. Hudson walked into the house, wondering why the front door was standing wide open. She heard the gun shots and dropped her shopping bags on the floor in the front entry way. She took the stairs quickly, her face a mask of anger and worry. She turned to make it up the last three of the seventeen stairs that lead to the upstairs flat and began to shout.  
“Sherlock Holmes! If you are shooting my walls again…” she started. She stopped the minute she came around the corner into the sitting room. Quickly looking over the scene before her, she began to shake. Not in fear, but in anger.  
Isabella and Camilla were ensconced in the corner of the room under the window. John was standing over them, looking them over for injuries. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, his foot resting on an unknown man and John’s gun hanging loosely in his hand. He smiled at Mrs. Hudson.  
“Sherlock, please make sure that the blood that is pooling under that man’s arm doesn’t stain the carpet.” She said. Sherlock nodded seriously and Mrs. Hudson looked further. Detective Inspector Lestrade was standing near the window, looking out and barking orders into his phone. He nodded his assent at her. Mrs. Hudson fully turned to see that Sherrinford still taped to a chair, but was half standing, half sitting on top of another man.  
“Mrs. Hudson, would you be so kind as to cut me out of this chair?” he asked. She nodded and went to the kitchen to retrieve a knife. She came near him and put her own foot on top of the man he was standing on. It was then, that she got the first full look at him. He was bleeding from the leg and Mrs. Hudson’s eyes narrowed.  
“Victor.” She spat. His eyes that had been closed in pain opened and their muddy brown recognized her after a moment.  
“Louise.”  
“Come to claim what was never yours?” she asked as she sawed at the tape holding Sherrinford’s wrists. “Tut, tut you animal. Isabella is a good girl and never deserved you as a father.”  
“Look at you. Are you so innocent yourself? You condemned your own husband to death.” Victor laughed.  
“With pleasure.” She said. Sherrinford’s hands were free and Mrs. Hudson handed him the knife to work at his legs. She shifted her leg so that more of her pressure was on him and less on the floor. She balanced herself on the back of Sherlock’s favorite easy chair.  
Victor moaned a bit in pain and Mrs. Hudson heard the sirens of the approaching ambulance and the rest of the Met. She knew that she had one moment and she smiled in a sinister way that neither John nor Sherlock had ever witnessed. Sherrinford looked at her and began to laugh.  
“Lou Lou. This isn’t the place nr the time.” He said. She shook her head.  
“Howie. This is the one thing that I have regretted.” Sherlock left the other man who was too weak from the gunshot wound in his shoulder to move and John joined him at his side.  
“Louise. Please. I had nothing to do with it.” Victor begged. “It was all Jerry’s idea.”  
“That I find hard to believe.” She said. She reached her hand out to Sherlock and he looked at her. She shook her hand a bit and Sherlock gingerly placed John’s British Royal Army Browning in it. She shifted a bit at the weight and checked the chamber for a round. Lestrade’s mouth hung open a bit and he watched her.  
“Mrs. Hudson. Let’s not do anything stupid.” He said, his cop voice trying to sooth the situation.  
“Oh, dearie. I don’t plan on shooting him.” Victor’s face relaxed a bit. “I do, however, have every intention of breaking his nose. And I wanted to make sure that when I release the magazine that I empty the chamber too.” In a move that was swift and practiced, if a bit rusty, Mrs. Hudson emptied the gun of its bullets and moved to a crouch. Her face was different; John and Sherlock had never seen her like this. Isabella moved Camilla into the back bedroom and shut the door.  
Mrs. Hudson shifted her grip on the gun and looked at Victor. “I could have been a very happy woman. But because of your association with my husband, I wasn’t. Did you know he beat me?” She whispered in his ear. “But I got the last laugh didn’t I? Took his money and bought this house. I hired Sherlock to ensure that he died after I heard about him from a friend on the Met. And now, you are here in my house, trying to hurt my family. And Howard? This young man did nothing wrong. If I ever hear of you, or your men, around any of them again, I will make sure that it’s the last thing you do.”  
John jumped a bit as the wide arc of the gun finished with a crashing blow in the dead center of Victor’s face. The blood was instant and only seconds away from being witnessed by the whole of Scotland Yard. John pulled Mrs. Hudson away and sat her on his chair.  
“Stay.” He said. She nodded and tried to hide the little smile that tugged at her lips while Sherlock and Lestrade began to listen to the story from Sherrinford as he made his statement. Mrs. Hudson looked over at the bleeding man on the floor and nodded as the medics shifted. His eyes were on hers and she was smug. He was terrified.   
Mycroft walked into the flat, his suit the image of perfection, and Harry rushed to Mrs. Hudson’s side. “Are you alright?” she asked, looking at the blood and gore around her.  
“I’m fine, dear.” She said, looking pleased.  
“Mrs. Hudson is very capable of handling her own defense when someone tries to hurt her.” Sherlock said to Harry. “She’s good at self-defense.” He said with a little force. 

************************************************  
Harry looked nervous as she put the kettle on to boil in the kitchen of 221B Baker Street. The Met was gone. The medics were gone. The three brothers and John were sitting around the make shift table / desk speaking in low voices to Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson and Isabella were sitting on the sofa, trying to make Camilla laugh, largely successfully. Harry turned her head as John entered the kitchen.  
“I hope that after we have some time, that you will explain all of this to me.” She said. John shook his head.  
“I will, but not today.”  
“Did Mrs. Hudson really hit that man with the butt of the gun and break his nose?” she asked.  
“Yup. Not only that, but I am pretty sure she broke his cheek bone. And I have never seen her handle a weapon. Popped out the magazine and emptied the chamber. Almost better than Sherlock.” Harry laughed a bit at the image.  
“I guess if this is going to be my life, you had better teach me how to handle a gun, too.” She said. Mycroft cleared his throat.  
“If want to learn, I will teach you.” He said.  
“I didn’t know you could shoot.” John said, leaning on the table.  
“I can.” John nodded.  
“You have to be a better shot than Sherlock.” John said with a laugh.  
“Yes. But then I suspect that Camilla is a better shot than Sherlock.” Mycroft said. John’s laughter started anew and Sherlock threw him a look. Mycroft smiled one of his rare and genuine smiles and John clapped him on the shoulder as he left the room. Sherlock pulled him into his side as he came near as he finished his conversation with Lestrade.

************************************

Sherlock felt the shift in the bed before he awoke. His surface to consciousness was immediate and he turned on his side to feel John’s panting. He rubbed his hand along his arm to calm him and felt the immense tension in the muscles under the skin. Sherlock took a deep breath and said, as quietly as he could, “John.” His tone was flat and calm. John’s fists were bunched in the sheet and his body was damp with a fine layer of sweat. It had been months since John had a nightmare like this. But after the events of the day, Sherlock wasn’t at all surprised.   
Sherlock could feel the change again as John felt his presence in the room. Sherlock knew he wasn’t awake yet, but he would be soon. Sherlock kept rubbing his arm, using more of his hand than his fingers. He repeated John’s name again, a bit louder this time. John’s arms loosened some and his breathing changed. It was less rapid and more regular. Sherlock knew that John was now awake, and he stilled his hand on John’s arm.  
“Don’t have to stop.” John said thickly.  
“All right then?” Sherlock asked, his hand resuming its path.  
“Nightmare.” John said tersely. Sherlock nodded. “I’m sorry I woke you.” Sherlock shifted to pull John into his arms.  
“It’s fine.” Sherlock said. He kissed the top of John’s head. “Do you need to talk about it?”  
“Not really in the mood.”  
“Are we going back to sleep?”   
“Don’t think so.”  
“What are we going to do then?” Sherlock asked. He looked at the bedside clock. It was nearly three in the morning.  
“I have no idea.” John said. Sherlock knew better than to press his luck with John at that moment. John would set the pace for the rest of the day.  
“Tea?” Sherlock asked, unwinding himself from John and moving towards the edge of the bed.  
“Ta.” John said. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. Sherlock watched him for a moment. He knew the different stages of the different dreams. There were variations but there were three categories: War, Fall, and Mary. This was a war dream. They didn’t bother John as much as they did when he first moved in. But it was still hard for John to admit that the nightmares bothered him.  
Sherlock put the kettle to boil and stood staring out the kitchen window. He listened for John to come down the stairs. John had helped clean up the blood stain on the floor and his knowledge of how to remove blood from any surface did come in a bit too handy. But the flat was clean. Sherlock heard John flop on the sofa and turn the television on, keeping the volume low. Sherlock brought the two cups of tea into the sitting room and John moved so Sherlock could sit next to him.  
“What are you thinking about?” Sherlock asked after a while. John had been quiet, but there was a small smile on his lips.  
“I was thinking about the morning after Mary and Jane died. Thinking about sitting right here with you after a nightmare, and how we played that silly game.” John said. Sherlock smirked.  
“That was some night.”  
“It was.” John agreed. His head fell back to rest on the back of the sofa. “Do you think that if Mary hadn’t died we would still be here?”  
Sherlock didn’t answer right away. John found his hand on Sherlock’s and they intertwined their fingers. Sherlock’s thumb absently traced John’s fingers. “I honestly don’t know. I was close to not being here.”  
“What does that mean?” John asked. Sherlock swallowed and looked at the floor.  
“That morning you found me in the house, the one with the drugs, I was considering buying enough to…” he paused, swallowing again. John’s hand tightened in his own. “But then you came back to me. And I thought if we could just be near each other that I would cope. I would push everything down again and take what I could get.”  
“Sherlock.” John said.  
“Don’t. John. We have been dancing around too many things in our relationship for too long. We never have really discussed how things are, let alone how they could have been different.” Sherlock said. John nodded.  
“I know. But I don’t want to. I want to live in the moment. With you. Always with you.” Sherlock smiled.  
“We are truly fucked up. You know that don’t you?”  
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	2. Timey Whimey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's Birthday.... one month on from Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day (in USA)! I wanted to give you a new chapter for mother's day and I hope you enjoy it. I have been a bit remiss in my smut as of late and I realized that. So, here is a bit. This chapter has some good feels and some suspense. Chapter 3 will show you what that is....  
> Thank you to my beta... mafm. I know she spends more time correcting my spelling than anything else. Sorry. Spell check is my savior but even that can't always find what I'm going for.  
> Thanks for continuing to read and comments are welcome!  
> hugs and kisses.....

Chapter 2 – Timey Wimey

Life at 221B Baker Street seemed to settle down to some extent. Sherlock and John fell back into a domestic routine, and it was an idyllic time. There was no one watching them from behind, no crazy armed men threating their lives, no one trying to hurt their friends. It had been a month since Sherrinford had nearly been killed in the sitting room and he was settling into his new life in London. He had a job with Mycroft and he and Isabella had been married in a rushed civil ceremony. Sherlock and Mycroft were at his side and Harry played bridesmaid. They were renting a flat not far from Sherlock and John, but far enough not to be underfoot.  
Sherlock’s phone pinged with a text message on the Saturday morning, early enough that John was still asleep in their bed. Sherlock smiled at the message and put his phone away in his pocket. He was dressed and sitting in his chair. He waited for a second message and when he felt the vibration, he rose from his chair, put the kettle on to boil and walked in to the bedroom.   
“John.” He said. John stirred a bit in the bed. “John.”  
“Oi. Sleeping here. I’m allowed to sleep.” John moaned. Sherlock smiled.  
“Nope. No more sleeping. Time to get up.” He said. He pulled the sheet down and noticed that John was more awake that he was letting on.  
“I will not get up.” John said. He rolled to his stomach and Sherlock sighed dramatically and loudly.  
“We have plans for today.” He said. John rolled his head to look at Sherlock who was standing at the side of the bed. He opened one eye and looked at him.  
“What kind of plans?” John asked. It was his birthday and he wasn’t sure that Sherlock had remembered.  
“We have shopping to do. There is no bread, there is only enough tea for this morning and after the kettle boils there will be no more milk. You need to go out.”   
“And what is wrong with you going?” John asked.  
“I have to get a few other things. Molly sent me a text. She has some ears for me.” Sherlock said. John groaned.  
“I don’t think so.”  
“About the ears?” Sherlock asked. John scoffed.  
“I am not going to the market.” He said. Sherlock took his jacket off and placed it neatly on the chair. He walked around to John’s side of the bed again and looked at him. John let out a huff as Sherlock pounced on top of him. “Oi! Get off me.”  
“I will not. You need to get up and I am going to drag you into the shower.” Sherlock said, half laughing. He bit John’s shoulder and licked the reddened spot with tip of his tongue.  
“That does seem to be one way of getting me into the shower.” John said. He rolled a bit beneath Sherlock as Sherlock lay on top of him. Sherlock leaned down and kissed the edges of John’s smile.  
“Happy Birthday, Darling.” He whispered right before he attacked his neck with lips and teeth. John let out a small moan and Sherlock smiled.  
“Darling?” John asked when Sherlock paused to breath in his scent in the space between his neck and collar bone.  
“Consider it a birthday present.” Sherlock said. He bit John’s collar bone and John ran his hands over Sherlock’s back.  
“I will. But there are too many clothes here.” John said. John felt Sherlock’s smile against his skin.  
“I am wearing just the right amount of clothing at the moment. You on the other hand are entirely too dressed.” John felt Sherlock’s slender fingers reach the waist band of his pajama pants and briefs. John lifted his hips a bit and Sherlock rid him of his clothes.  
Sherlock’s lips and tongue traced a path down John’s torso and John felt the heat pool in his groin. He let out a moan as Sherlock’s fingers traced down his hip and along his thighs. Sherlock shifted a bit and moved to kiss and lick John’s hips. John’s hardened cock lay against Sherlock’s throat and he bucked his hips a bit to gain some friction.   
“Sherlock.” John moaned in a plea for more. Sherlock moved his face and John took in a sharp breath when Sherlock’s lips hit the top of his cock. Sherlock ran the edge of his tongue along the tips, teasing and playing with John. John tried hard not to move his body, to enjoy the sensation that was being given to him.  
Sherlock opened his mouth and took all of John into his wet dark oral cavity. John moaned again as his tip hit the back of Sherlock’s throat and he swallowed. John found his hands in the raven curls he loved so and he felt Sherlock smile. Sherlock pulled his mouth back some, adding suction and a light pressure from his tongue along the shaft.   
“Your mouth is amazing.” John said. Sherlock pushed back towards John, his nose nestling in the nest of hair at the base. Sherlock began a regular rhythm and John bucked his hips a bit as the motion nearly drove him over the edge.  
“Sherlock.” John moaned as Sherlock felt John tip over the edge and spill into his mouth. Sherlock swallowed and John pulled him up level with him. John kissed him deeply.  
“Thank you.” John said.  
“You are welcome.”  
“That was some birthday present.” Sherlock smiled.  
“That was not your birthday present. It was something I wanted to give you.” John kissed him again.  
“I don’t expect anything from you.” John chuckled. “Five years of birthdays and this is the first you have even said something to me.”  
Sherlock looked guilty. “I admit that I don’t always understand the need to remember the date your parents gave birth to you. And I will freely admit that I have been remiss in the past where I have not acknowledged your birthday. But I am today. This…” Sherlock waved his hand in the air “was just as much for me as for you. I love you and I love making you happy.”  
“I love you too, you great idiot.”  
“I’m an idiot?” Sherlock asked in mock pain.  
“Yes. I have gotten used to you not realizing it’s my birthday. I truly expected nothing today.” John said. Sherlock’s face shifted again into something sad. “No, love, it’s fine. I love you even if you don’t get me something wrapped up in a box.”  
Sherlock kissed John. “You shower and I’ll make tea.” He said. John nodded and got up and headed into the shower while Sherlock stood in the kitchen making tea.

**************************************

Sherlock refused to tell John where they were going. The cab rambled along the London streets and John sat back to enjoy the surprise. Sherlock was impatient with the driver.  
“You know that Harry is expecting us at their house this evening for dinner.” John said casually.  
“Are you seriously thinking that either my brother or your sister would let me forget?” Sherlock scoffed. “I was just reminding you.” John said with a laugh. “Can you give me a hint as to where we are spending the day?”  
“Nope.” Sherlock said, his “p” popping as he closed his lips. John twisted his lips and looked at his boyfriend. John shook his head and watched out the window for a short period of time.  
The cab finally pulled up to a small squat building, windowless with only one grey metal door in the side.  
“Should I be concerned?” John asked with a small laugh. “Or did Mycroft help you with this?”  
“No. I’ve known about this place for a long time.” Sherlock said. He led the way through the little door and John followed.

***********************************

John was sitting on the patio at Mycroft’s a cold lager in his hand. He was soaking in the sun and his hair was a golden halo around his head. Camilla was running in the grass, her father kicking a ball for her to chase and kick back. Molly was sitting next to John, her belly growing larger by the day.   
“So, what did Sherlock do for your birthday?” Molly asked.  
“He took me to this brilliant shooting range. I got to use some guns I haven’t used before and a few that I haven’t seen since the service.”  
“What a very manly thing to do.” She said with a smile.  
“It was a great thing. Better than anything I could have thought of myself.” John said. Molly nodded.  
“He does love you.” She said.  
“And I him.”  
“And when are the two of you finally getting married?” she asked, half playful, half serious.  
“Right after you. Maybe we should have a double wedding. Or a triple with Mycroft and Harry. Same groups of people, it’ll save on the hall rental.” John said. Molly began to laugh boisterously. Sherlock came over to see what John had said that was so funny.  
“And has the man of the hour suddenly struck on something so funny….” He began. Molly held up her hand and caught her breath.  
“It was only partly what he said. Partly it was a memory of something else that made me laugh so.” John smiled a bit.  
Sherlock sat on the edge of the chair and watched Molly try to regain her composure. Her belly suddenly shifted and Sherlock’s eyes grew wide.  
“Did something just move inside?” he asked. Molly nodded.  
“Active little one.” She said, rubbing her hand over her mound. She grabbed Sherlock’s hand and held it to her belly. “Am I the first person you really know that is pregnant?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock whispered. He was mesmerized by the rolling and fluttering in Molly’s abdomen.  
“It’s weird.” She said. John nodded his head.  
“Hiccups?” he asked. Molly nodded her head.  
“Every evening, about now.” She said. Sherlock looked at her belly and his hand bouncing rhythmically.  
“The baby is having hiccups?” he asked incredulously.  
“Yes. It’s normal.” John said.   
“Are you sure? It’s not doing any damage?” Sherlock asked, his face full of concern. Molly laid her hand on top of Sherlock’s soothingly.  
“It’s very normal. Strange, but normal.” She said. Sherlock shook his head at the miracle inside of her.  
John shifted and put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders as he stood behind him. Sherlock leaned back a bit and John rubbed them.  
“Fancy a walk before dinner?” he asked. Sherlock didn’t seem to hear him at first. “I’m a bit stiff and I was thinking a walk down to the lake would suit me just fine.” Sherlock caught the statement and turned towards John.  
“May I join you?” he asked. John nodded his head and they set off towards the lake down the path.

*****************************************

Harry and Anthea were deep in conference over the desk in the study. Mycroft was outside, talking with Lestrade, and Molly and Rob were enjoying Sherrinford and Isabella’s company.  
“Are you sure that we can make this all work out?” Harry asked.  
“I am. I have spoken to everyone. It’s all set. You just need to pack for you and Mycroft. The car will be ready to go in the morning.”  
“I hope John doesn’t mind leaving so soon after his birthday.”  
“He was fine with it. We had better get to dinner or no one will leave and we will all miss the flight.” Anthea said.   
Harry nodded and went to check on the birthday dinner she had planned for her brother. She was excited and nervous at the same time. She went out to the patio to gather the guest for dinner but noticed John and Sherlock were missing.  
“Where did they go?” she asked Molly.  
“For a walk, down near the lake.”   
“I swear. Since they started dating, they can’t keep their hands off of each other.” Harry said. Molly laughed.  
“Hasn’t changed that much, really.” Harry nodded in agreement and pulled out her phone.  
“Dinner in five. Stop shagging here. You have a home for that.-HW” She didn’t have to wait for a response.  
“Not shagging. Snogging. Be there in two.-JW” Harry put her phone away and went back in the house.

*****************************************

John settled himself on the seat of the sofa in the boat house. “Wanted a bit of time?” Sherlock asked him.  
“I wanted a good snog from my love.” John said, opening his arms wide for Sherlock to come and join him. Sherlock did. John found his hands on either side of his face and drew Sherlock in for a deep kiss. “Thank you for the best birthday ever.”   
“It’s not over yet.” Sherlock said.  
“I know. But in five hours we will be on a plane. I will shag you senseless once we get to the villa. But until then, I want a good ten minutes of uninterrupted snogging before dinner. And then a long snog in the back of the car. And maybe a quick shag when we get home. I packed for us before we left this morning. So, we have time.”  
“We would, except you are talking now and when we get home, my parents will be there.” Sherlock pointed out.  
“So, I’ll shut up now.” John said. Sherlock seconded the motion by planting his lips over John’s. He traced the soft opening of John’s mouth with his tongue and Sherlock felt John’s moan against his moist skin. John opened his lips, allowing for Sherlock to slip his tongue between his teeth. Their hot tongues slid against each other and John felt the shift in his jeans. He wondered if they had enough time for a quick and rough hand job before dinner. The soft ping of his phone in his pocket negated that idea.  
“Harry.” Sherlock said as he broke away to allow John to get his phone out of his pocket.  
“Yes.” John sent a text back to his sister and looked at Sherlock. His cheeks were pink and his hair was a wreck from where John’s hands had been threaded in the curls.   
“Such timing.” Sherlock said.  
“Wibblely Wobbley, Timey, Whimey.” John said with a shrug.   
“What the hell does that mean?” Sherlock asked. John smiled.  
“Pay attention to Doctor Who next time. You might get it.” John stood up and reached for Sherlock. Sherlock shook his head and took John’s hand.  
“Never. That is one of the silliest shows you watch.” Sherlock said as they retreated back to the main house.  
“No, it’s not. It’s fantasy. It’s a classic. You had to have watched it as a kid.” John said.  
“Deleted it if I did.” Sherlock said. John nodded.  
“Of course, love. Of course.”


	3. Galaxidi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday in Greece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...... lots of surprises here. Lots of things going on. Can't wait to hear from you all as to what you think.  
> PS I chose this island because supposedly BC has a home there. It's pretty. Google it. Or visit it. Or buy it. Or take me... any of these options would be fine.  
> Thanks again to my wonderful beta.... MAFM. I will have more for you soon.... Once life gets out of my way!

Chapter 3- Galaxidi

 

John collapsed onto the bed in the center of their room. It was a short flight and the drive wasn’t terrible. But it had been a long day and he was happy that they nothing to do for several hours. Sherlock was stroppy and tired. But all John could think about was a cool shower and a pillow. Sherlock pulled off his jacket and laid it over the chair in the bedroom.  
“I’m getting in the shower.” John said. “Care to join me?”  
“Hmmm,” was all the response he got.  
“I think you’ll feel better.” John said. Sherlock sighed deeply. “I know you’re tired love. So am I. Let’s get a quick shower and into bed. We will both feel better in a few hours.” Sherlock just stood where he was. John walked over to Sherlock and began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled out the tails from his trousers and Sherlock watched his fingers work. Sherlock assisted by pulling off his shoes and John quickly stripped him of the rest of his clothes. Sherlock walked into the bathroom and turned on the taps. John pulled off his clothes as he followed Sherlock. Sherlock stepped under the spray and felt his mood drain off of him. John stepped in after him and pulled his arms around his waist.  
“Bigger than at home.” John mentioned. Sherlock nodded. John reached for the few toiletries he brought with him out of their suitcase and took a flannel from the pile. He soaped it up and began to rub gentle circles over Sherlock’s back. Sherlock moaned a bit at the sensual movement and John smiled. He ran the cloth down Sherlock’s shoulders and along each of his arms. He pulled into the sides and down his rib cage. John’s left hand ran down Sherlock’s arse and along his mile long legs.  
“Your ass is so sexy.” John said, bending to reach the bottom of Sherlock’s legs and kissing the cheeks as he passed them. John’s hands came up the front of his legs and Sherlock shifted to allow John better access to his groin. John gave Sherlock a quick and gentle stroke on his half hard cock and Sherlock shivered with pleasure. Sherlock turned and John ran his soapy hands up to Sherlock’s chest. He lingered for a moment over his scars, kissing each one after he washed them.  
Sherlock’s hand reached for John’s face and pulled him up to be kissed. His mouth was cool and wet from the water. John tossed the flannel into the corner of the shower and wrapped his hands around Sherlock’s neck.  
“We should go to bed.” Sherlock said between kisses. John nodded and Sherlock shifted so that John could stand under the spray fully. John washed himself and rinsed off quickly. Sherlock had a fluffy towel ready for John and John roughly dried himself before walking into the bedroom. Sherlock was lying on the bed, his skin still damp and slightly glistening in the early morning sun.  
“Good morning, love.” John said at the sight.  
“Come to bed.” Sherlock said. John chewed on his lip for a moment, drinking in the sight of his lean lover’s body stretched out on the bed, his cock more than half hard and waiting. John dropped his towel and climbed up next to Sherlock.  
“Fuck me.” Sherlock growled at John, his voice making John shiver. John looked in Sherlock’s eyes.  
“God, yes.” He said. It was the invitation Sherlock needed to pull John closer and possess his mouth. Sherlock kissed John’s lips, nipping at them and sucking them until he felt John’s cock twitch against his stomach. John’s left hand reached for the bottle of lube he had tossed on the bed earlier and poured a measured amount in his hand in a practiced way. He brushed Sherlock’s hardened cock with the back of his hand as he moved his fingers down to his ass. He let his first lubed finger enter the tight ring of muscle and feel its familiar tension and moist heat.  
Sherlock moaned into John’s neck and John nibbled at his ear. John moved his finger in and out a bit, slowly adding a second. He used his expert touch to rub over the nub of nerves that was the prostate and Sherlock yelped out John’s name.  
“God, John. The things you do to me.” He panted out.  
“The feeling is mutual.” John said as he stretched and readied Sherlock for him. Sherlock’s cock twitched again and John could feel the first leak of pre cum come over the tip. John reached up to kiss Sherlock and flip him on his back. He withdrew his fingers and Sherlock moaned at their loss. John used his slickened fingers to stroke Sherlock twice and Sherlock growled.  
“Jesus, John. I need you now.” Sherlock’s hand found the lube and poured a small amount in his own hand. He grabbed John’s cock and gave it a few strokes to ready it for entry. John threw his head back and Sherlock smiled. John regained his control and grabbed Sherlock’s hips to position him on his thighs. Slowly at first, John pushed into the stretched hole he had readied for Sherlock. He pulled out and slammed into him again, this time allowing the tip of his hard cock to hit Sherlock’s prostate.  
“I’m not going to last.” Sherlock said, allowing his hand to travel to his own cock. John leaned forward to kiss Sherlock as he thrust his own cock in and out. They found a rhythm quickly and John felt Sherlock stiffen as he reached the edge. John pulled out once more and pushed against his prostate, sending Sherlock into a breathless orgasm. As Sherlock tightened around John, John felt his own release, spilling into Sherlock.  
They lay together panting; their bodies glistening with sweat and love in the early morning Grecian light.  
“What a lovely way to end my birthday.” John said. Sherlock kissed his nose, his eyes and his cheeks before kissing his lips again.  
“Anything for you, my love.” John smiled as he went to the bath to clean himself. Sherlock followed him and cleaned himself before they crawled between the soft cotton sheets, holding each other and drifting off to sleep.

****************************************

Mycroft and Harry sat in the back of the car. Mycroft was reading something on his tablet and Harry was playing with her phone. “Blasted woman.” Mycroft mumbled.  
“Who?” Harry asked.  
“Anthea. She’s not answering my texts or emails.”  
“Maybe she is having a bit of a lie-in. She deserves it.” Harry said. Mycroft nodded.  
“I could have done with one myself.” He said. “You kept me up late last night with your texting.”  
“I’m sorry, Myc.” She said.  
“Who were you talking to?” he asked, putting his arm around her and pulling her close.  
“John.”  
“And what where you talking about?”

Harry pulled back a bit from Mycroft and looked him in the eye. “Do you remember a few months ago when you were recovering and I asked if you trusted me and I disappeared for a few hours?”  
“I do.”  
“Well, I was doing research. Emailing with your mother. We had some interesting conversations.”  
“But she was there.” Mycroft said.  
“Yes, but email is silent.” Harry pointed out. “No chance of being over heard.” Mycroft nodded.  
“So, what were you emailing about?”  
“I arranged a surprise for you. John and I were going over a few details about it last night.”  
“A surprise? For me?” he asked, astounded.  
“Yes. We are on our way on a holiday.”  
“Holiday? To where?”  
“Galaxidi.”  
“Greece?”  
“Yes. Sun and quiet.” She said. Mycroft reached across to kiss the top of her head.  
“And that is why Anthea is not answering me.” He said. Harry nodded her head. “But what does John have to do with it?”  
“I needed to talk with my brother about my going away with my fiancé. It’s my first trip with him and I needed some advice. John spent some time there in the service.” Harry said.   
“My parents took us there when we were children on holiday.” Mycroft said.  
“That’s why I picked it. Your mother said it was a favorite of yours.” Harry said.  
“Thank you, darling.”  
“You are most welcome.” She said. The car turned into the airport and Mycroft realized that every detail was planned down to the plane. He smiled at her and as he exited the car, took off his jacket and loosened his tie. He was on holiday after all.

***************************************

The butler took the last of the bags from the car and Harry put her phone back into her purse. Mycroft was too busy looking out the window to notice that she had been texting for the last thirty minutes of their three hour drive. He stretched and put his arms around Harry.  
“It’s lovely.” He said looking over the grounds of the villa she had rented. “How long are we staying?”  
“As long as you would like.” She said. “I rented the villa for a month. But we can go back to London the minute you are bored with me.”

“I will never be bored with you.” He said, pulling her in for a kiss. Harry giggled and grabbed Mycroft by the hand.  
“Come. The website has photos of a lovely courtyard that I am dying to see.” She said pulling him inside. The air was cooler inside the villa and the courtyard was covered in lush vegetation and flowers. There was a gentle babble of a fountain in the center and Mycroft thought he heard other voices in the far corner. Harry pulled him around the room, looking at the plants and wearing a mischievous smile.  
“What’s this, then?” Mycroft asked. Harry bit her lip to stifle a giggle, but it was Martha who let the cat out of the bag.  
“Mycroft! Harriet! It’s about time!” she said, pulling her son and Harry into a hug. Mycroft patted his mother’s back and looked at the voices he had heard. Their entire little family was there - his brothers, their lovers, his new niece, his parents, Anthea and Greg, as well as Molly and Rob. This was more than a holiday. It was a family holiday.  
“You planned this?” Mycroft said to Harry.  
“I did. I thought while we were here, it would be a great place to spend a honeymoon.”  
“You need to have a wedding for a honeymoon.” Mycroft pointed out. Harry nodded.  
“How does tomorrow strike you?” she asked. Mycroft stopped still.  
“Are you serious?” he asked. Harry smiled and nodded her head. “What about a big wedding? The white dress and church type?”  
“Not really screams of either of us.” She said. “Besides, all the people we love are here with us, at least for the week. Then they all leave and we spend the rest of the month here.”  
“A surprise holiday and a surprise wedding.” He shook his head.  
“So, is that a yes?” Harry asked. Mycroft nodded his head.  
“It’s not often that anyone can surprise me.” He said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “But you have since the first time we went to dinner together in Switzerland. And you haven’t stopped since.” He kissed her and there were a few cheers from the group watching.  
Anthea grabbed Harry’s hand and whispered in her ear. Harry nodded.  
“I need to borrow your bride. We have a few details to finish up.” Anthea told Mycroft. “John and Sherlock will fill you in on what you have to do. Then get changed. We are spending the afternoon in town.”   
“I guess I have my assignment then.” He said. Anthea smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The girls ran off into the villa, Martha, Isabella, and Camilla following. Molly smiled and went to lay down, as the heat was making her tired. Rob went accompanied her.  
Sherlock, John, Sherrinford, and Greg sat around the table watching Mycroft.  
“How long have you known about this?” Mycroft asked Sherlock.  
“She told us about the trip about six weeks ago. The wedding came together about two.” Sherlock stated. John noticed there was none of the usual sniping or anxiety between the two of them.  
“So, John, what are my orders?” Mycroft asked.  
“Two things: rings and a best man.” He said. “I know that Harry packed a suit for you. So these are the only two things you have to do. Sherlock?”  
Sherlock pulled out eleven ring boxes from the messenger bag hanging on the back of his chair. “Harry sent us to pick these out last week. We will return the ones that you don’t care for.” Sherlock explained. He opened ten of the boxes. Five held different bands for Harry and five for Mycroft. He looked at each one. “You are to pick out the one you think you would like for yourself. Harry asked to be surprised. Then you are to give me your engraving orders. There is a jeweler here in town awaiting the orders. John has Harry’s order.”  
“Sherlock, there should have only been ten.” John said noting the odd box.  
“Yes, well, that’s not for them. It’s for you.” Sherlock said, opening the box. John looked inside the box. There were two rings, equal in every way, platinum braids intertwined on each other. “Well, really for us.”  
“What are you getting on about?” John asked. Sherlock slipped off his chair and knelt down in front of John.  
“I do not intend to steal the thunder from my brother or your sister, but John Hamish Watson, please do me the honor of becoming my husband.” John looked at Sherlock, his face smiling a genuine smile. John nodded.  
“I want nothing more.” He said. Sherlock pulled him into a fierce kiss there was a round of applause. The girls were leaning over the balcony of the second story that looked down on the courtyard. John looked up, his cheeks a bit red and Sherlock beamed at his love.  
“Well, that was unexpected.” Greg said as he pulled each of them into a congratulatory hug.  
“That it was.” John said. “But wonderful.”  
“Who won the pool?” Sherlock asked as he hugged Greg back.  
“Married. Not engaged.” Greg corrected. Sherlock nodded. “If it happens before the first, then Anderson.”  
“Not him. We must wait John.” Sherlock said. John laughed. Mycroft hugged John.  
“Thank you.” Mycroft said.  
“For what?”  
“For being part of my life, for taking care of my brother, for Harry, for everything.” John looked at him for a moment.  
“You are welcome.” John turned to look at his fiancé. Sherlock was smiling and he came around to Sherlock. They embraced for the first time John had ever seen.  
“Brother mine.” Mycroft said.   
“Brother dear.” Sherlock answered.  
“Stand up for me?”  
“Always.”  
Ben came out of the shadows where he had been sitting in the shade. He looked at his boys and hugged them tightly. John smiled and wished he had a camera to capture a moment that they would deny ever happened once they returned to London. 

*****************************************

Sherlock sat behind the wheel of the car, speeding down the twisty road towards town. John sat back in the seat and watched the road dip and curve along the mountain side.  
“I love you.” John said as they slowed down to take a curve.  
“I do too. But what brought that on?”  
“I was just thinking how lucky I am.”  
“I am the lucky one, John.” Sherlock said. John smiled and Sherlock laughed.  
“That was unexpected.” John said.   
“Yes. That was the plan.”  
“Where shall we marry?”  
“Scotland Yard?” Sherlock offered with a laugh.  
“Only if we can have Angelo cater.” Sherlock howled.  
“Fuck Anderson.” Sherlock said. “Why not do it today?”  
“What? And deny your mother and father?” Sherlock twisted his lips.  
“I guess you are right. But we are not doing anything rash or large.” Sherlock said.  
“Agreed. I’ve done the big wedding. I’m through.” Sherlock nodded.  
“Fine with me.”  
“Thank you, love.”  
“Thank you, husband.”  
“Husband?”  
“Just trying it on.”  
“It fits you well, husband.” John said with a smile.  
Sherlock downshifted and smiled. 

**********************************************

Sherlock and John met the rest of the group in town after running their errand. They walked around town and shopped and ate from the street vendors. It was relaxed day together. Once they retrieved the rings, John and Sherlock snuck off to spend some time together alone.  
John sat down on a bench that over looked the sea. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was a riot of pinks and oranges.  
“I think this is one of my favorite days.” John said, his hand intertwined with Sherlock’s. Sherlock was dressed down in khaki slacks and a tee shirt. John’s olive drab cargo shorts were a bit reminiscent of his army fatigues and Sherlock noted that they were close enough for his army kink that he was getting turned on.  
“Mine too.” Sherlock said.  
“We used to come here on holiday as children.” Sherlock said. “I have fond memories of this town.”  
“Harry told me that’s why she picked it.”  
“We never brought Sherrinford here. This was the place that only the four of us came to.”  
“And yet he’s here now.” John said. “Does that upset you?” Sherlock slung his arm around John’s shoulders and shrugged.  
“Not as much as you’d think.” John nodded.  
“I’ve been trying to figure out how you feel about him and Isabella being part of our little family.” John began. “But I can’t quite figure it out. Mycroft is easier to read. He still doesn’t trust him entirely, but he is happier with him closer to his vest, so he can keep a better eye on him.”  
“I don’t really care.” Sherlock said. John looked at his face, for once an open book. There was nothing hiding under the surface. He truly didn’t care if his eldest brother was part of his life or not. John nodded.   
“I happen to agree with Mycroft.” John said. “I feel better knowing where he is. I know that he tells us that he was working for Moran and Moriarty under duress, but there is still something about him that I don’t entirely trust. Something that makes me concerned.”  
“He’s a selfish prat.” Sherlock offered.  
“That’s rich coming from you.” John said with a laugh. Sherlock laughed too.  
“I agree.” His smile was broad and John was taken with it. He leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth and Sherlock pulled him close. They watched the sunset over the sea and rose to walk back to the car and drive back to the villa to join the rest for dinner.

********************************************

Anthea, with all her organizational skills, had outdone herself with dinner. It was a wedding rehearsal of sorts and she wanted to ensure a relaxed time. The villa had a staff and she had made sure that the plates were never empty nor were the glasses. Sherlock and John found that they were comfortable sitting around the table, listening to the comfortable banter that was present. Camilla fell asleep against Sherrinford’s chest and Sherlock cocked his head at the sight.   
Sherlock was taken with the idea his brother had in only in a month’s time, fallen into the role of doting father quite naturally. He still felt great animosity for Sherrinford and he wondered what else the man was hiding. He made a mental note to spend more time with him after they arrived home in London to see if he could unearth his secrets.  
Ben and Martha retired to bed after a few hours and Molly and Rob followed suit shortly. Sherrinford and Isabella decided to take advantage of the warmer weather and after putting Camilla down to sleep in her bed, went for a walk around the estate.  
“Anthea, I would like you to make sure that if you need me while I am honeymooning with my wife, that you do not call.” Mycroft said. His face held a rare genuine smile and Anthea laughed.  
“I have been doing more than half of your job for years.” She said. Mycroft nodded. He turned towards Sherlock who was almost lounging in the chair, his head back, and John who was sitting behind him had his hands leisurely in his curls.   
“Will you take care while I am gone? Keep watch on our brother?”   
“Hmmm.” Sherlock answered. He was quite high from the fine wine and he wasn’t entirely paying attention.   
“I will make sure of it.” John said. Mycroft nodded.  
“Thank you, John.”  
“I had better get some sleep.” Harry said, standing and stretching. “I have a long day tomorrow and it wouldn’t do to have the bride sleeping on her way down the aisle.” She gave Mycroft a gentle kiss on his lips and her hand lingered on his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”  
“I’m beat, too.” Greg said. Anthea nodded her head and joined her hand with his as he left the group with a wave. The little oasis in the center of the house was quiet and the bubbling of the fountain could be heard along with the night song of the crickets. Mycroft sat back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle and looking the most relaxed John had ever seen him.  
“I could get used to this.” Mycroft said.  
“What?” Sherlock said lazily. “Give up running the country?” Mycroft laughed. “You would be bored inside of a month. You’d start a revolution in the fishing boats just for something to do.”  
“At least I wouldn’t take to shooting walls.” Mycroft said. Sherlock smiled.   
“No. You would shoot the sea walls for a bigger impact.” John smiled at the easy banter between the brothers.  
“No, you would not.” John said. “Harry would make sure that you were properly entertained. As would I.” Sherlock shifted his head back and John resumed his absent combing. Mycroft closed his eyes and his face shone with a smile. “Love suits you.”  
“Does it?” Mycroft pondered. “I have to admit, John, that I never thought I’d find it again.”  
“Again?” Sherlock asked. “What does that mean?”  
“Nothing.” Mycroft said, realizing his slip.  
“No. You said again. Have you been in love before?” Mycroft sighed.  
“Once. Years ago.” Mycroft admitted. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at his brother.  
“And you never spoke of it.” John felt his breath hitch for a second and Sherlock spun in his chair. “And you knew.” John bit his lip and his eyes moved to Mycroft. Mycroft raised his hand and waved it at him. John looked back at Sherlock and nodded.  
“Yes. Mycroft confided in me months ago.” Sherlock stood suddenly and paced for a few steps, his mind whirling as it hadn’t since they had arrived in Greece.  
“That was the day where the two of you disappeared.” Sherlock said. Mycroft nodded and John looked at the ground. Sherlock humpfed and sat back down. “You can confide in my fiancé, but not in your own brother?” Sherlock sounded hurt.  
“It’s complicated.” Mycroft admitted. “At that time John deduced that there was something more amiss with me. I was struggling with my feelings for Harry at the time, and he asked. I told him about a girl I almost married when I was in university. I am sorry that I never told you Sherlock, but John really was the better one to talk to about it. We,” Mycroft’s hand waved between the two of them, “do not discuss emotions. It is not who we are. And despite that, I do hope that you know that I do care for you.”  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes again at his brother and turned towards John. John looked a bit guilty and Sherlock smiled. He leaned in and kissed John.  
“And that is one of a million reasons I love John.” Sherlock said. John blushed a bit as he smiled. “And now, I think, I shall take my fiancé to bed and leave you to your keep.”  
“Good night.” Mycroft said. Sherlock nodded and John paused before leaving the room.  
“Good night, Mycroft. And thank you.”  
“And for what are you thanking me for?”  
“For giving me back Sherlock. For giving me Harry again. For trusting me.”  
“It is I who is in your debt.” Mycroft said. John, stunned, said nothing but gave a curt nodded and left to follow his betrothed to bed.

*********************************  
Sherlock and John lay in a post-coital haze, wrapped around each other. Neither knew where they ended and the other began.  
“Are there really a million reasons you love me?” John asked.  
“At least.” Sherlock said. “Are you feeling unloved? Do you need validation?”  
“NO. I am feeling very loved.” John said. “I would like to hear some of them.”  
Sherlock kissed John and smiled. “I love your nose.”  
“What about my nose?” John said, feeling self-conscious of it for the first time.  
“It’s so much smaller and rounder than mine. It turns up at just the right angle and gives me this little place to land a kiss.”  
“That’s good.”  
“And your hair - it’s so many different colors. Up close it’s like looking at a woven pattern. It’s a mesmerizing riot of blonde and grey and white and brown with a few random ginger ones running through it.” Sherlock said, his fingers tracing the edge of John’s hair along his forehead.  
“Hmmmm.” John said contently. “What else?”  
“Your shoulders.” He said as he ran his hand along them. “So much more muscle than you would think hiding under those silly jumpers.”  
“My jumpers are not silly.” John said. He sighed and Sherlock pulled him tighter to him and John settled in to the mattress more. He was becoming increasingly groggy.  
“Do you want me to go on?” Sherlock said. “I could for hours, but I would rather tell you my favorite reason.”  
“That would be good. I’m so happy and comfortable that I won’t be awake for much longer.”  
“The thing I love the most is how much you love me.”   
“I do love you. More than I ever thought I could love another person, Sherlock. And I love that I will get to spend the rest of my life with you.”  
“I would have it no other way.” John smiled and Sherlock felt his breathing slow and steady. He kissed John’s forehead and drifted off to sleep.


	4. Wedding Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding of Mycroft and Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Thanks to mafm, here is another chapter, expertly betaed. I am working on more, but as the holiday weekend approaches, time to write is scarce. But being that we will be sans cells, wifi and other linked media, I am hoping to get some good writing done this weekend with a cold drink at my side and the sun shining.   
> Enjoy this little wedding section.... it's wrapping up soon.  
> Thanks for the comments and for reading....  
> Now on with the show....

Chapter 4- Wedding Blues

Harry placed the last pearled barrette in her hair and looked into the mirror. John was standing off to the side, watching her.  
“What?” she asked, looking deeply to see if there was something she had missed.  
“You look beautiful.” He said.  
“Thank you.”  
“I am really happy that we are…. better.” He said.  
“Better.” Harry rolled the word around her mouth. “Yes. We are better.”  
“You know Harry, I am sorry. Sorry for all the words and the hurt I caused you over the years.”  
“No, Johnny. It’s not you who needs to be sorry.” Harry hung her head a bit. “It’s me who is sorry. I’m the one who hurt you time and time again. It’s me who made you angry. Who made you say those things to me? It’s me who brought it upon myself.”   
“Harry.”  
“No, John, we have never really said these things. It’s something that we avoided at all costs. But we need to talk about it.” John nodded his head.  
“We are no better at talking about our emotions than Sherlock and Mycroft.” Harry laughed a bit.  
“No, we are. But we vacillate between ignoring them and yelling about them at the top of our lungs. There is no middle ground. But I owe you, John. I owe you my life. And I owe it to Sherlock and Mycroft too. Without them we wouldn’t be here.”  
“I know.” John said. “I don’t think you know how much I owe them, too. Sherlock rescued me. I was close to taking my life.” His voice was quiet and sobering.   
“John, I knew that you were depressed, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”  
“And I kept that from you. And Mary. She saved me too.” Harry put her arm on John’s.  
“I know. I wished I had been better when Sherlock… well, when the whole thing happened. But I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t see how bad you were. I would have been there. I should have been there.”  
“You are my older sister. I know that you have always looked out for me, and that it was something you wanted to do. But you have been sick. And now you are better. I love you, Harriet.”  
“I love you too, John. But if we don’t get moving towards my wedding soon, either your fiancé or my fiancé will be knocking down the door.” John laughed and smiled at his sister as he pulled her into his arms.

***************************************

Sherlock and Mycroft were standing at the end of the row that they had created into a makeshift center point. The sun shone on the sea below the cliff where they were standing and Sherlock smiled as he saw John hold out his arm for his sister. Anthea had arranged for the men to be wearing the same suits of linen, light grey with silvery blue button-down shirts under them. Harry had chosen a sky blue dress for herself and dressed Anthea in a dove grey. Harry carried a small bouquet of wild flowers and the effect was beautiful and elegant.  
Mycroft let out a smile that reached his eyes. Harry was the very picture of the blushing bride. Anthea, efficient as always, had found someone who was able to conduct the ceremony in English to officiate. It was a small favor for the majority of the group, as Mycroft and Sherlock both spoke Greek.  
Mycroft and Harry gazed at each other lovingly and repeated the vows that they were asked to state. They exchanged rings and Harry smiled at Mycroft’s choice. It was a simple band of platinum, simple and striking against the diamond that he had already bestowed upon her hand.  
There was a round of applause from the family and friends that had gather when they kissed for the first time as man and wife. Sherlock hugged his brother and his new sister-in-law. John hugged Harry tight and there was a tense and awkward hug between John and Mycroft.  
Anthea had arranged for a luncheon back at the villa and Sherlock hooked up his iPhone to the sound system for back ground music.  
“What, no violin music?” Greg mused as he leaned against the table they were using for a bar.  
“No. I will not do that again.” Sherlock said. He looked at John.  
“I hope you know that I am putting you on.” Greg said. Sherlock smiled and nodded.  
“I do, Lestrade. And I hope that when you do finally marry Anthea you don’t expect me to play for you then either.”  
“I hope you won’t.” Sherlock nodded that Greg neither confirmed nor denied the deduction.  
“So, you will be asking her to marry you?” Sherlock asked. Greg took a swig of his beer and shrugged.  
“I don’t know if I want to do all that again. But maybe I will. I would have never thought that I would see either you getting married, let alone your brother.”   
Sherlock laughed. “Me either.”

********************************************  
Harry and Mycroft sat on the end of bed, resting for a moment. Harry noticed her left thumb was mindlessly rubbing the new rings that were on her finger. Mycroft sighed loudly.  
“All right, darling?” Harry asked, her hand drifting to his arm.  
“Yes. Perfect. I’m just…. I don’t know exactly.” He said.   
“Elated, stunned, in love, and tired.” Harry said. Mycroft smiled.  
“Exactly. But you left out one thing.”  
“What’s that?” she asked. He grasped her hand in his.  
“Complete.” Harry smiled as he lifted her hand to his lips and nuzzled the skin there with his lips. “I never knew that there was a hole where my heart is. It wasn’t until I saw the way John and Sherlock are together, that I realized there was something missing from making myself whole. But even then, I still wasn’t sure what was missing. I had deluded myself into thinking it was nothing of consequence. Then came you. And you barreled your way right in. You fit in perfectly. And it was on my way back from Switzerland the last time before I kissed you that I realized that it was you I was missing.”  
“Myc, you know that other than a bloke or two when I was in school, you are the first man that I have been with. I didn’t know it was something I wanted. But I think Johnny hit it on the head. He told me that he hadn’t turned ‘gay’ but he had fallen in love with Sherlock. And I didn’t turn straight. I just fell in love with you.”  
“I do love you.” Mycroft said. Harry smiled and turned towards her husband.  
“And I you. I owe you so much and I promise you this. I will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.” Mycroft took her into his arms and kissed her deeply. Harry wrapped her arms around his waist and let him pepper her lips with kisses.  
“I want you.” He growled in her ear. “But there is something I need to do first.” He pulled away from his wife and went to the dresser in the master bedroom they were sharing. He routed around in the clothes for a moment and came back to the bed with a small box.  
“What is this?” she asked.  
“When I decided that I wanted to ask you to marry me, I only asked my mother for the family ring. That lovely diamond you are wearing has been in my mother’s family for over two hundred years. I wanted to make sure that you had something that was entirely yours. And that it was….” Mycroft struggled for the right word. “That it was entirely fitting for you.” Harry took the offered box and met Mycroft’s eyes. They were soft and full of love. Harry smiled a bit.  
“Thank you, darling.” She said. Mycroft nodded a bit to encourage her to open the box. Inside, nestled in the velvet was a small pendant suspended from a silver toned chain of fine metal. The pendant was a fiery opal, more reds and purples than any other color. It was surrounded in an asymmetrical pattern with five clear diamonds.  
“Fire and ice. The two words that come to mind when I think of you.” Mycroft said. Harry lifted the delicate chain and Mycroft helped settle it around her neck.  
“Thank you, Myc. I love it.” She said. She leaned in and kissed him. “I do not have your wedding present here.”  
“I wasn’t expecting one. It was more than enough to have a surprise wedding and honeymoon.” Harry shook her head.  
“I do have something for you. It’s back in London, the finishing touches being added as we speak.”  
“May I have a hint?” Mycroft asked with a laugh.  
“No, love. I will not tell you what it is. Neither will Anthea. No one else knows about it. You can’t deduce this.” She said. Mycroft smiled and caressed her cheek with his hand.  
“That is one of the reasons I love you. You constantly surprise me. I should also know by now not to underestimate a Watson.”   
“I’m not a Watson any longer. I am Mrs. Mycroft Holmes. Wife to the head of the British Government.” Mycroft smiled.  
“Well, Mrs. Holmes. Would you like to make love to your husband, now?” he asked. Harry giggled.  
“There would be nothing I would like more.”

***********************************************

Greg lay back on the bed in the small bedroom in the villa. According to Anthea it was the smallest bedroom in the house, but it was still larger than half of Lestrade’s house in London. Anthea was removing the pins that had been holding her hair up in its complicated knot and Greg was admiring the view.  
“You missed your calling, dear.” He said.  
“What calling was that?” she asked, watching him in the mirror of the dressing table.  
“Wedding planning. It was a lovely wedding.” He said. “You and Sherlock should retire and go into business.” Anthea laughed.  
“Never. I have known Sherlock too long.” She came to sit on the edge of the bed.  
“How long have you known him?”  
“I was there the first time he overdosed. He was nineteen. I believe that you met him three years later.” Anthea offered.  
“Sounds about right. How many times has he overdosed?” Greg asked. He met Sherlock when he had been found in a drug raid on a university house where five other students had been buying drugs and turned up dead shortly thereafter. Sherlock had just injected seconds before the doors were burst open. Lestrade and Donovan saved his life.  
“Five, including the time you found him.” Anthea said in a low voice. “I never thought I would admit it, but Sherlock has changed. John has done wonders for him.”  
“So very true.” Greg said. “And if it wasn’t for the pair of them I would have never met you.”  
“Not so.” She said, turning so that Greg could unzip her dress. “We met at three different occasions before John came into Sherlock’s life. The first time being the night that you met Sherlock for the first time.” Greg shook his head at the hazy memory.  
“So, why now?” Anthea turned and looked Greg square in the face.  
“Three things.” She said. She held up three well French manicured fingers on her right hand. She lay one down after each point. “Sherlock. Mycroft. Your wife.”  
“Three good points.” Greg said. He ran his hands over her milky skin and leaned in to land kisses on her shoulders. “What changed with the Holmes boys?” he asked between kisses.  
“I only felt more at peace about not helping Mycroft watch over Sherlock once John was involved. Once I knew that he wasn’t leaving and Sherlock was back from the dead, I felt that my obligation there was done. And after Harry started watching Mycroft, it was time for me to relax. I was able to concentrate on my life once again.”  
“I feel that there is still so much I don’t know about you. Yet, I bet you and Mycroft have a file on me.” Anthea laughed.  
“Of course we do.” She said. “Silly man. Do you think I didn’t?”  
“It’s a little unnerving.” Greg said. He rested his chin on her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her naked waist. “But I know nothing about you.”  
“I will answer anything.” She said.  
“Is Anthea your real name?”  
“Yes. It’s Greek. It means Flowery One.”  
“That is not an adjective that I would associate with you.” Greg chuckled.  
“My parents were Greek immigrants. It is an old family name. My great aunt or something.” She said waving her hand.  
“Were?” Greg noted.  
“Yes. Died when I was young and in school. It’s of no matter. I was old enough to be on my own and after Uni I went into the service.”  
“Working for Mycroft.”  
“Not right away. I was a field agent for three years.”  
“I want to know so much more.” Greg said as he resumed laying kisses on her skin. “But right now I am distracted.”  
“I will transfer my file to your laptop later.” She said. “You can read it yourself.”  
“Okay.” Greg mumbled into her neck. Anthea lay back on the bed and Greg trailed kisses down her stomach. “I don’t really know much, but I do know that I love you.”  
“That’s the first time you have said that.” She said. “It’s nice.”  
“Hmmm.” Greg’s mouth was busy kissing the inside of her thigh.   
“I love you too, Greg.”  
“Good to know.”

*********************************************

Martha sipped her tepid tea from the cup that was in her hand. She looked out over the town that was twinkling in the night from her balcony in the villa. As the parents of the groom, Anthea ensured they had the second best room at the house. She sighed as she set her tea cup down on the table. Ben looked over at his wife.  
“All right, dear?” he asked.  
“No.”  
“Tell me what’s wrong.” He said, gently reaching across the small gap between their chairs to take her hand.  
“I’m just a little sad.”  
“Why is that, dear?”  
“Our boys are growing up.”  
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that happened a long time ago.”  
“I know. And I am thrilled that they both found people that they love enough to marry. To be honest I wasn’t ever sure that we would see that. And to think we have a granddaughter, too. It’s a bit overwhelming. But I feel like our lives are ending as theirs are beginning.”  
“I know.”  
“I’m sorry, Ben. This was not how I intended to spend the night of Mycroft’s wedding. Blue and sad.” She said. Ben moved her hand up to his lips.  
“I understand.” He said. “I am just happy we were able to see our children happy before we died.”  
“And that they are all alive and healthy. I guess I should be thankful.”  
“Tomorrow. Tonight you can be sad.”  
“Thank you. I knew you would understand.” She said, her smile warm and melancholy at the same time.  
“I always do.”


	5. Big Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big changes are on their way for our friends.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, last chapter that has been fantastically betaed by mafm. Got more to write.... this weekend. At least that's the plan.  
> Enjoy the holiday!  
> Thanks for the encouragement and the love! Keep it coming.....

Chapter 5- Big Steps

The week in Greece was idyllic for John and Sherlock. They returned to London well-rested and ready to face whatever life threw their way. Upon arriving home, John carried their bags to the bedroom that they shared on the second floor and tossed them on the bed to unpack. Sherlock lounged on the sofa, his mind relaxed for a bit yet.  
“Sherlock, I think we need to talk to Mrs. Hudson about putting a second bathroom upstairs.” John mentioned when he was standing in the kitchen taking stock of the empty cabinets and fridge before he went to get the shopping.  
“I already have. The workmen start tomorrow.” Sherlock said idly.   
“Really?” John asked.  
“Yes. The plans are on the table.” John walked over to the table that served as a desk and looked over the blue prints. They featured large bathroom with a shower that was nearly the size of the downstairs bath and a lovely tub that could fit two persons.  
“Where are we getting the space for all this?” John asked.  
“The attic. It’s a crawl space really. Mrs. Hudson saw the value of it and agreed. I told her I would pay for it all.”  
“The shower and tub are quite large.” John noted, swallowing as he gazed at his reclined lover.  
“Just the right size for both of us.” John smiled.  
“Right. Tea?”  
“Please.” Sherlock said.   
John set the kettle to boil and noted that Sherlock’s phone was vibrating on the table top. He picked it up.  
“Dimmock.” John said as he answered it.  
“Dr. Watson, are you and Sherlock back in country? I heard that you were out for a wedding.”  
“Yes, we are back. My sister got married. Why are you asking?” John answered, putting two tea bags into the waiting mugs.  
“I need your help.”  
“I never would have thought I would hear that come from your mouth.” John said with a chuckle.  
“Donovan is helping me while Lestrade was on holiday. She’s insisting this is right up your alley. And we are out of clues.” Dimmock admitted. “Please tell me you will help.”  
“Let me talk to Sherlock. Text me the information and I will let you know if we can come.” John rang off the phone.  
“Case?” Sherlock asked, his eyebrow raised as John handed him a cup of tea.  
“Dimmock and Donovan are asking.” Sherlock’s phone pinged with an incoming text. “That should be the information.” Sherlock picked up his phone from John’s outstretched hand and kissed him on the cheek. He scrolled through the information.  
“Do you want to go?” Sherlock asked, lazily sitting back as John read through the information.  
“It’s not up to me.” John said. “Are you interested?”  
Sherlock shrugged. “I really don’t want our holiday to end just yet.”  
“I know love.” John said. “But we still have to pay the bills and we have to go back to work at some point.”  
“Yes.” Sherlock admitted. “So, we go. Tell them they have us for an hour. Then we come back here. Have sex and order take away. Watch crap tellie and then….”  
“And then?” John asked, his eyebrows raised.  
“I don’t know. Live, I suspect.” John shook his head with a smile on his face.  
“I should take you on holiday more often.”  
“Why?”   
“It makes you so relaxed.”  
“Isn’t that the point of a holiday?” Sherlock asked as he hailed a cab. “To relax?”  
“But I have never seen you like this.” John looked Sherlock up and down. He was still in his traveling clothes. Sherlock looked at what he was wearing: cargo pants, trainers, and a tee shirt. It was very casual, too casual for Sherlock. He was almost to the point of appearing undressed, as compared to the usually bespoke clad detective.   
Sherlock shrugged. “I don’t really care.”  
“Who are you and what have you done with my fiancé?” John asked. Sherlock smiled.  
“I left him in Greece.” Sherlock laughed. “Trust me, John. I will be back to my normal self the moment I see Donovan.”  
“Good. I like this Sherlock, but I don’t want to share him with the rest of the Yard.” Sherlock kissed John and pulled him out of the cab, thrusting a few bills through the window of the car as they arrived at the crime scene.  
Dimmock looked relieved to see Sherlock as they approached. Sherlock was true to his word. The moment that Sally Donovan took one look at Sherlock’s attire, his normal brooding and snarky behavior was back. John shook his head and smiled.  
“Oi! Freak! Did the airline lose your luggage or something?” Donovan ribbed as he approached.  
“Quite the contrary.” Sherlock drawled. “I was on holiday. This is what people wear on holiday. But you are so inept at your job, I had to cut my time short and rescue you.”  
“And he’s back.” John said.

******************************************

The one hour that Sherlock promised John turned into three, but the case was solved and Sherlock had the normal post-case glint in his eye. John was tired and knew that the next week was going to be long with contractors in the flat. All he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep. But Sherlock was already getting familiar in the cab before they had pulled away from the Yard.  
“Sherlock.” John said. “I am quite worn out. I want to go to bed.” Sherlock twisted his lips.  
“Last night of our holiday.” He whined. “And you have work in the morning.”  
“Yes. And we have no food in the flat. No milk. Nothing.”  
“So. I promise I’ll do the shopping in the morning.” Sherlock said. John turned his head towards his lover.  
“You. Shopping? Now I am worried.” John chuckled.  
“I am perfectly capable of shopping, John.” Sherlock stated. “I did it before I met you.”  
“Yes. Sometimes I wonder how you survived.”  
“Why? Are you inferring that I am not capable of doing all the things in our home that you do?” Sherlock challenged.  
“Not at all.” John said. Sherlock raised his eyebrow. “I’m just saying that I know you. I know that you wouldn’t do these things. You would have found some way to get someone else to do them for you.”  
“You do them because you love me.”  
“That I do, love. That I do.”  
“So, I propose a challenge.” John’s interest was piqued.   
“What kind of challenge?”  
“With the workmen in the house for the next three weeks, I will take over all the domestic chores. Cooking, cleaning, laundry and shopping.”  
“And what do I have to do in this challenge.” John was curious, if nothing else.  
“Nothing. Just let me prove to you that I am right and you are wrong.”  
“What am I supposed to be wrong about?” John asked.  
“You are wrong in inferring that I cannot take care of you as well as you care for me.”  
“I never said that.” John said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Can we revisit this after I have eaten and had some sleep?”  
“No. It begins in the morning. Now, John, what shall we order for dinner?” Sherlock asked, opening the door to the flat.

********************************************

John awoke to Sherlock handing him a cup of tea and gently telling him that he had twenty minutes to shower and dress before the workmen arrived. John nodded sleepily and took his tea to take a shower. He came down the stairs just as the first workman arrived to begin pulling apart the bedroom. Sherlock had brought down a few things from the upstairs bedroom so that they could sleep in Sherlock’s old room until the renovations were complete. John settled into his chair with the newspaper. He wasn’t expected into the surgery until after lunch, as he was working the late shift. He watched as Sherlock searched the flat for his keys.  
“Where are you off to, love?” John asked from behind the paper.  
“Shopping.” Sherlock said as if John had forgotten everything he knew.  
“Right.” John said.  
“What do you want for dinner this evening?” Sherlock asked.  
“I don’t know. I can bring take away home when I leave work.” John said.  
“No. I am going to cook.” Sherlock answered. John nodded his head.  
“Whatever you want to make is fine.”  
Sherlock nodded once, kissed John on the cheek and left the flat. He wasn’t home when John left for work three hours later.  
John was sitting at his desk, charting a patient’s progress when his phone buzzed on the edge of the desk top. John picked it up and looked at the text from Sherlock.  
“Need to get take away on your way home. –SH” John looked at his watch. He still had two hours to go before his shift ended. Sherlock suggesting take away either meant a case or something else happened.  
“Sure. I will get a curry. What happened?- JW”  
“No water. Mrs. Hudson is furious. They broke a line while they were working.-SH”  
“Okay. So, how are we going to stay at the flat if there is no water?-JW”  
“Hadn’t thought about that. –SH” John thought about different options for a moment.  
“Could we stay at the boat house?- JW”  
“Mycroft and Harry are still in Greece. Should I text them?-SH”  
“No. I think they would be fine with it. Text Anthea and make the arrangements. Pack for us and I will meet you there after work.-JW”  
“I knew you would fix this. Another reason that I love you. See you later.-SH”  
“I love you too, you berk.-JW” John put his phone on his desk and shook his head.

******************************************  
Molly sat at her desk in her seldom used office and stared out into space. Rob had gone back to work this morning, his practice allowing him desk duty for a while. Molly had a pile of paper in front of her, the forms to fill out for a transfer out of her department. She loved her job more than anything. She loved the puzzle of figuring out how and why someone had died. She loved the stories the people on her table told her. But the morgue was no place to work while she was pregnant. She and Rob had discussed it at length and she agreed to think about a change. She was even considering becoming a stay at home mother. But she wasn’t sure that she wanted to give up her work.   
Molly took out her phone and sent out a text. She got a reply quickly.  
“Meet me for lunch? - MH”  
“Sure. Where?-SH”  
“Canteen. I could use some advice. - MH”  
“Be there in twenty minutes. –SH”  
Molly got up from her desk and visited the loo before she went down in the lift to the canteen. Sherlock was standing just outside the door and his face broke out into a smile when he saw her. He kissed her on the cheek and they got in line for something to eat. Settling into their seats, Sherlock watched the thoughts crossing Molly’s face.  
“You and Rob had some serious talks while you were on holiday.” Sherlock stated. Molly nodded her head. “Did he ask you to do something that you are not ready to do?”  
“Yes and no.” Molly answered. She put her fork down on her plate and picked up her tea. “He has asked me to consider giving up my position while I am pregnant.”  
“That’s a travesty.” Sherlock said. “But I suppose that there is a certain logic to it.”  
“Yes. As a medical professional he is correct. But I love my work. I don’t want to give that up.” She sighed.  
“What would you do if you didn’t work in the morgue?” Sherlock asked. Molly chewed on her lip a bit.  
“Honestly? I don’t know.”  
“Would you consider doing me a favor?” Sherlock asked. Molly cocked her head in question. “It’s nothing, really. Just give me a week. Let me think on this for one week. We will have lunch next Tuesday and I will tell you my honest opinion and have a few suggestions for you.”  
“I can wait a week.” Molly said. “I am going to ask my boss to allow me desk duty while I consider my options.”  
“No more lab.” Sherlock sigh morosely.  
“No more lab.” She agreed. “So, tell me, how are is John? Did you enjoy your holiday, too?”  
Sherlock and Molly made small talk for the rest of the time it took for her to eat. Really, Molly talked and Sherlock’s brain ran in circles. Molly got up to go back to her office. She hugged Sherlock.  
“Thank you.” She said.  
“For what?”  
“For being my friend.” She said. She kissed his cheek and he gave her a genuine smile.   
“I guess that I am.” He said. “And I guess your crush is over.”  
“For the most part, I got to see a different side of you and you basically destroyed my pristine image of you. Don’t get me wrong. I still find you insanely attractive. But, we both are in love with other people.” Molly said. Sherlock cleared his throat.  
“Let it be known, if Rob ever hurts you, he will have to answer to me.” Molly smiled and waved Sherlock off.

*******************************************

John put the bags of take away on the work top in the cottage and Sherlock smiled from his seat on the sofa.  
“Hello, darling. How was your day?” Sherlock asked. John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock.  
“You know damn well how my day was.” He said as he started to unpack the bag.   
“I’m practicing small talk.” Sherlock said. He walked into the makeshift kitchen and put his arms around John’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.  
“Small talk.” John said as he relaxed into Sherlock. “Why?”  
“I had lunch with Molly today. I realized that it was an area that I can fake for short periods of time when needed, but when it comes to our friends, I am deficient.”  
“That’s… interesting.” John said. “Did you find her at the lab?”  
“No. She called me for advice.” Sherlock explained. He took his meal to the sofa and sat down. John flopped on the sofa next to him.  
“So, you talked. And now you are asking me how my day was. After going out on a case yesterday in cargo pants and trainers. Did you hit your head or something?” John asked.  
“No. John. I am perfectly me.”  
“So, what did you talk about?”  
“Work. She is considering a change out of the morgue for the duration of her pregnancy.” Sherlock explained. John nodded his head.  
They ate in silence for a few moments, John visibly relaxing with each bite. Sherlock stopped eating and put his food down on the table.  
“John, have you ever considered our lives?”  
“What about them?” John asked.  
“About where we are headed? About what our life could be like in a year, in five, in ten?”  
“Not really. I just know that I want to be with you all the time. I just want to grow old with you.”  
“That goes without saying.” Sherlock said.  
“What are you getting on about?”  
“I was thinking about starting a proper business. A proper consulting business. With an office and a staff. Moving from what we do, to becoming a professional detective. Being able to consult on cases with the Met, but maybe with Interpol. And private cases too.”  
“We do that already.”  
“Yes, John we do. But to do more with it.”  
“Again, love, what are you getting at?” John asked, putting his own meal down. He turned towards Sherlock and saw the wheels turning in his head.  
“If we had a group of people we trusted. People that each had their own field of expertise as it were. We could expand the type of cases we worked on. Someone in medicine. Pathology. Forensics. Maybe even a detective.”  
“Oh.” John said. “I understand better now.”  
“Do you?”  
“I do, love. It’s interesting. But that means we will have to invest a large amount of money into a proper lab and office. We would have to do things by the book. Less following hunches and more paperwork. Things that could be used for proper court cases.”  
“But that’s where you and Lestrade would be helpful.”  
“Yes, love.” John sat back on the sofa and ran his hand absently down Sherlock’s spine. “Let me think on it a bit. I think you should too.”  
“Watson and Holmes Investigation Services.” Sherlock muttered.  
“It has a certain ring to it.” John mused. Sherlock smiled and steepled his fingers under his chin. 

***********************************************  
Mycroft rolled over in the bed and looked at his phone. Anthea was sending him exactly one email a day. It was a compromise that they had reached with Harry. Mycroft was indeed enjoying his honeymoon with his new wife, but he felt that a month away from the office with no communication was too much for him to bear. Harry agreed that an updated report first thing in the morning was enough for her to allow him to stay in touch without worrying all day long. He flicked open his email and looked at the report that Anthea had sent. He added a few notes to her email and read the last paragraph again. It was the personal information on his brothers that he saw each day.  
“Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes have advised that due to a contractor error at 221B Baker Street, they will be staying at the boat house until such a time as the flooding damage and water damage is fixed. I have granted this permission at this time. Mr. and Mrs. Sherrinford Holmes have settled into daily life and Mrs. Holmes was interviewed for a position in an office of human rights as a Spanish Translator part-time while Miss Holmes is in school. I have thoroughly inspected the office and the personnel employed there. Nothing of note. Full file will be available upon your return. Personal note- Harry, the last of your things have been moved from your flat. I have put your personal items in the master bedroom and put most of your furniture into storage. We can decide what to do with it after you return. You will be receiving two packages this afternoon. One is personal mail for your attention. The other is the last of the paperwork for you signatures and the press release for the papers. Please review and return as soon as possible. Mycroft’s absence along with the usual grapevine has been active regarding your marriage. We need to address it soon. Miss you both. X- An.”  
Mycroft sent his reply to Anthea and switched to text mode on his phone. He had not sent any messages, but as it had only been three days since the rest of the group had left the island, he felt that a quick conversation with his brother would not be remiss.  
“Please feel free to use the kitchen while you are staying at the boat house.-MH” He hit send and got up from the bed, walking towards the small veranda off of their room to join Harry for coffee. His phone beeped in his hand.  
“Who are you texting?” Harry asked as she reached her face up for kiss.  
“John and Sherlock. Apparently they are staying at ours as their flat is flooded.” Mycroft explained as he kissed his wife.  
“That’s a bit not good.” Harry said.  
“An said she got your flat cleaned out. There are some papers coming this afternoon that require our signatures.” He said as he poured himself a cup of strong coffee. Mycroft looked at the message on his phone.  
“Thank you. Will consider it. Would it be breaking the rules if I called you later? I would like your advice on something personal. –JW”  
“Not at all. Call when you can. I will answer if I am available.-MH”  
“Ta. Love to Har. –JW”  
Mycroft and Harry spend a leisurely morning reading and sitting in the shade of the villa’s stucco walls. It was pleasant and Harry went off to take a nap after a light lunch. Mycroft was sitting in the study of the villa, reading through the papers that Anthea had sent. His mobile buzzed next to him.  
“Hello, John.” Mycroft answered.  
“Mycroft. How are you? Enjoying yourself?”  
“I am. Thank you. How are things at the flat?”  
“Don’t ask. It will be a week longer than we expected for repairs. But we should be able to move back in a few days from now. Thank you for letting us stay at the boat house.”  
“My pleasure.” Mycroft said, leaning back on the settee he was perched on. “So, my dear brother in law, what can I assist you with?”  
John took a few moments to explain Sherlock’s idea and John’s reservations. “I know it’s very similar to what we are doing now. It would just be professionally and full time. I think Sherlock really just wants to help Molly out and find a bit more stability in it.”  
“And Isabella would be a great gal Friday as it were.” Mycroft said. Harry could work in pharmaceutics.”  
“That’s what I was thinking. Sherlock doesn’t know I called you. I have a lot of reservations about this.” John admitted.  
“I can tell.” Mycroft said. “And you don’t know that it’s a viable option. Or that it’s even a needed option.”  
“Exactly.” John said. He knew that talking to Mycroft would help.  
“Let me pose this then, John. What if it’s not just detective work? What if what you and Sherlock are already doing is just one element? What about professional doctoring? Medical consulting for court cases? Reviews for second opinions? Setting yourself and your employ as professional consultants of varying types; expert witnesses, so to speak.”  
“Hmmm.” John said as he thought about it. “Do you think there is a need for that kind of service?”  
“If watching my brother over the years has taught me nothing, than yes, there is a crying need for this. It would be slow going in the beginning, I’m sure, but there could be the ability to still take on cases from Lestrade and the rest of the Yard as well as private cases. More down-time to pursue other interests.”  
“I have to think on this some more.” John admitted. “It’s a big decision.”  
“You would be giving up locum work.”  
“Yes.”  
“And you enjoy it.”  
“I do. It’s what I trained for. It’s what I do well.”  
“Yes. But do you want to write prescriptions for colds for the rest of your life?” Mycroft posed.  
“Yes and no. It’s rote. I don’t always have to think about what I am doing. There is stability there.”  
“Yes. There is. However, remember, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”  
“True. I’ll ring off now. Give my sister my love.” John said.  
“One more thing, John. If I may.” Mycroft paused. “Realize that Sherlock is looking to protect everyone. This is his way of keeping everyone he loves close to him. And it’s not completely a hair-brained idea. Consider it.”  
“Thank you Mycroft.” John said. Mycroft ended the call and went back to his papers.


	6. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months later.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Loves! Sorry for the long wait! My computer decided to give me the blue screen of death and I had to do a little hacking to get it back together. But, in the time you have been waiting, I was able to finish the piece. Thanks to my wonderful beta.... mafm, who, btw is working on the crap load of chapters I sent her while she is traveling for work, we are back on track. I will be posting at least one more this week. But also check out the one shot drabble I wrote. It's unedited and unbetaed but I love it.  
> So.... here we go... enjoy it!

Chapter 6- Autumn

Two months later. 

“Watson and Holmes Consulting” Harry sang into the telephone. They had been open for just over a month, and business was booming. John had finally given up the locum work, and was now working full time consulting on medical cases for the Yard, as well as for private clients. Sherlock was picky about the cases he chose, but he was loved the work. Molly was invaluable as the director of the lab for now, not really doing much hands-on. She was interpreting reports for John and Sherlock. As he belly grew, it was easier for her to sit back in the office than over a table in the lab. Rob occasionally sat in on medical cases and John was thankful for a fresh pair of eyes.  
“Yes, sir, we would be willing to set up an appointment. I have Tuesday at five open. Would that suit you?” Harry jotted a few notes and hung up the phone. Isabella was usually the person answering the phones, but she had gone to pick up take away for lunch and Harry was grateful when she saw her coming back into the office. Harry was starving.  
“Sorry that took so long.” Isabella explained. “There was a long line.” Harry nodded and pulled out her order, running to the conference room with her food. The room was large and held several small tables that were cluttered with take away boxes, case files and other things that had accumulated there.  
“No problem.” Harry said. John came out of his office at the sound of Isabella’s return. He joined his sister and sister-in-law in the conference room and unwrapped his sandwich.   
“Did his highness order anything?” John asked. Isabella bit her lip and shook her head. John groaned and got up from the table. He went to the small fridge he kept in his office and grabbed a yogurt and a spoon. He found Sherlock sitting in his lab / office, intently working on something. John plopped the yogurt down on the work table.  
“Eat.” He demanded.  
“Not hungry.” Sherlock stated.   
“Bullshit.” John challenged. Sherlock had been working on a case for three days and was barely eating. John would let it go two days, but three was the max. It was also part of the deal they made when they agreed to open a business together. “You are on day three. Eat. Now.”  
“Fine.” Sherlock said. He tore his eyes away from the microscope and dug into the yogurt. John nodded and stood, his arms crossed on his chest.   
“November 3rd.” John said. Sherlock stopped, his spoon full of yogurt half way to his mouth.  
“What?”  
“November 3rd.”  
“Why then?” Sherlock asked, finally understanding what John was saying.  
“It was the um… the date…” Sherlock’s eyes smiled with the rest of him. Sherlock put down his food and came around the table. He pulled John into his arms.  
“It was the day we became us again. Only fitting, I guess.”  
“That’s what I thought. Besides, I want to be nowhere near England on another Bonfire night for a while.” John admitted. “It’s a perfect second anniversary.”   
“That sounds perfect to me.” Sherlock said. He kissed John on his lips. The intercom on the desk beeped.  
“Sherlock? Lestrade is here. Are you two decent?” Harry teased. Sherlock smiled.  
“Yes, but give me a minute.” John laughed and pulled away. He went back to his lunch and passed Greg in the hallway. They chatted for a moment and John left him to work with Sherlock.

*******************************************  
John sat down to his lunch and looked over the case notes for the case he was currently working on. He wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was going to have to go to Brussels for a few days. He hated taking cases that were going to send him away, but this one was too good to pass up. And the pay was worth it. He picked up his take-out container and deposited into the bin on his way back to his desk and office. He stopped by to see Isabella giving her the details of what he needed for flights. With any luck, he could make the trip in twenty four hours. And if Sherlock was wrapped up in his own case, it was better.  
John stuffed the last of his case files and his laptop into his messenger bag and looked at the clock. He had enough time to stop into see Sherlock before he had to get to the airport. It was lucky that he had a carry-on bag with a change of clothes and other necessities in his office - it was much more convenient than stopping back at Baker Street.  
Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa in his office. He was in his thinking pose and John knew him well enough to see that he wasn’t in his mind palace, just thinking. He rapped on the door frame. Sherlock turned his head and smiled.  
“Hello.” He said. John came over and Sherlock sat up a bit so that John could sit and Sherlock deposited his head in John’s lap. John’s fingers automatically found themselves raking through the curls.  
“Hello, Love.”   
“Brussels?”  
“Yeah. I should be back for dinner tomorrow.” John said. He sighed.  
“You don’t want to go.” Sherlock observed.  
“Nope. I would rather be here with you.” John said. “But as you have a case on with Greg, this is better.”  
“Better would be you on the case with me.” Sherlock said.  
“I’ll miss you too.” John chuckled.  
“I promise that I will be fine.” Sherlock said.  
“I know you will.” John said. He looked at the clock on the wall and knew that he had to get going.   
“Angelo’s tomorrow?” Sherlock asked.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Positive. Text me when you land.”  
“I will. I love you.” John said. Sherlock smiled,a smile that reached his eyes, and John knew that he reserved mainly for him.  
“I love you, too. Give us a kiss and go before you miss your flight.” John leaned down and gave Sherlock a kiss that after a moment, found both of them wanting more time and panting for breath.  
“Don’t forget to eat and sleep.” John called from the door and Sherlock gave him a snort as John went down the hall.

********************************************

“Landed. Miss You. XX-JW” Sherlock’s mobile vibrated in his pocket and he smiled at the message.  
“Miss you too. I’ll call you in the morning. About to apprehend a criminal.-SH”  
“Be safe.-JW”  
“Always. –SH” Sherlock slid the mobile back into his pocket and waited for Lestrade to give him the signal. Donovan was waiting in the shadows with her gun drawn. Sherlock felt a familiar surge of adrenaline in his veins and shuddered a bit. There was something exhilarating about chasing a criminal, and he loved his work.   
It was an easy apprehension and Sherlock only suffered a small amount of bruising around his ribs. It was going to hurt for a few days, but it was all in a day’s work. He was reclined in the sitting room at Baker Street, nursing a cup of tea and holding an ice pack to his side. He heard the knock at the door, then the door open and shut downstairs. He could tell from the footfall that it was Sherrinford. Sherlock shifted a bit in his chair and waited for his brother to enter.  
“Sherlock?” Sherrinford called into the sitting room. “Are you home?”  
“Would you have come into the flat if I wasn’t?” Sherlock asked.  
“I.. I was… Yes.” Sherrinford said, finally. Sherlock nodded towards the arm chair across from him and Sherrinford sat in it.  
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Sherlock asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
“Can’t I come and see my brother?” Sherrinford asked.  
“No. We are Holmes. There is always a reason for everything we do.” Sherrinford nodded.  
“That is true.”  
“So. What do you need help with?”  
“I… I need… Shit.”  
“Sherrinford. I am in considerable amount of pain. I just finished a case. I haven’t slept in four days. I am exhausted and at the moment, I don’t know how much longer I shall be awake. So, either spit out what you need, or leave.” Sherrinford let out a deep breath.  
“I need your help.”  
“Obviously.”  
“I am in a bit of a bind.”  
“I loathe repeating myself, but obviously.” Sherlock drawled.  
“You know I have been working with, Mycroft.” Sherrinford began.  
“For, not with.” Sherlock sniped.  
“Okay, for. And recently I have been looking over the books for a couple of his black ops. And I found a glaring problem. There was a trail, a trail I traced back to Moriarty.”  
“I thought we finished all that.” Sherlock said, a little stunned.  
“So, did I, so did I. But that doesn’t change what I found. And the money is still being accessed.”  
“What does that mean?” Sherlock asked.  
“It would seem that someone is still using the money. I’m just not sure who. And I don’t want to seem alarmist. I don’t want to bring it to Mycroft’s attention until I am sure. And the report is due in three days.”  
“You need to follow the money.” Sherlock said.  
“That’s the answer I keep coming up with, too. But I don’t know how… I can’t lie to him.” Sherrinford offered.  
“You can’t.” Sherlock offered. He shifted in his chair and winced.  
“You are hurt.” Sherrinford said.  
“Yes.”  
“John?”  
“Is out of the country. He doesn’t know. And I plan on keeping it that way as long as I can.” Sherlock said.  
“So, will you help me?” Sherrinford asked. Sherlock sat back in his chair, his eyelids growing heavy. Sleep was well on the way to claiming him. He wanted to go up to his bed and sleep.  
“I need to sleep. I will think on it. We can meet for lunch tomorrow to discuss it further. I will need to see the file.” Sherrinford nodded.  
“I will send it when I get home. I will wait to hear from you.” Sherlock stood up from his chair with a grimace on his face.  
“Good night.” Sherlock said.  
“Good night, Sherlock.” Sherrinford said as he headed for the stairs. “And thank you.”  
“Hmm.” Sherlock said as he climbed the stairs to his bed.

*****************************************

John looked over the case file one last time, before his breakfast arrived. He was meeting with another doctor, one who had perfected the procedure that the family of the patient that had hired John was concerned was done incorrectly. His mobile rang on the table next to him. He saw Sherlock’s name and answered it with a smile.  
“Good morning, Love.” John answered as he sat back.  
“Good morning, John.”  
“What happened? How badly are you hurt?” John asked.   
“Bruised. Caught a couple of kicks that I didn’t expect.” Sherlock sighed. “How did you know?”  
“I can hear the difference in your breathing. The way you are sitting.” John said. “Right ribs?”  
“Yes. It seems that I am rubbing off on you.” Sherlock said with a stunned laugh.  
“Case solved then, Love?” John asked as he sipped his coffee.  
“It is. And yours?” Sherlock asked. John could hear the noise of Baker Street traffic through the phone.  
“It’s making progress. I have a meeting this morning. Did you eat? Sleep?” John asked.  
“I slept. I am currently making toast.” Sherlock said. “I had a visitor last night.”  
“Who would that be?” John asked. “Your mistress?”  
“John, that’s not funny.” Sherlock said. “Sherrinford.”  
“Really?” John asked.  
“Yes. He asked for my help. It seems that there are still monies active in Moriarty’s network. He’s not positive and wants me to help him prove it before he brings it to Mycroft.” Sherlock explained. John listened as Sherlock bit into his toast.  
“Interesting. What do you think?” John asked. “Do you think it’s plausible?”  
“It’s plausible.” Sherlock said, his mouth full. “But I need to look into the data first.”  
“Sherlock, be kind to Sherrinford. He’s looking to both of you to help him, to be agood brother. He wants to make up for all the shite things he has done.”  
“I understand.” Sherlock said. His voice lowered and softened. “I missed you last night. I would have liked to have had you in bed with me.”  
“I was lonely last night too, love. But we will be together tonight.”  
“Good. I need to go. I need to read the file from Sherrinford.” Sherlock said. John looked at his watch.   
“I have my meeting soon too. I love you.”   
“I love you, too.” Sherlock said. “I’ll see you soon.” Sherlock hung up his phone and booted up his lap top. It took him three hours to read and reread the file that Sherrinford sent him. It was plain that the money movement was well hidden, but once he picked up the threads of the trail it was glaringly obvious.  
“Come to the Baker Street.-SH” Sherrinford felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.  
“Twenty minutes. –Sherrinford.” Sherlock sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin.


	7. Tumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case with Sherrinford and a brief glimpse into Sherlock's time... abroad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. RL got in the way. But here is the next chapter. Not many more to go!  
> Thanks for sticking around....

Chapter 7- Tumbling Down

John stepped out of the cab and looked longingly at the door to 221B Baker Street. Just beyond that door was the love of his life, the kettle, and his bed; three things he wanted more than anything at that moment. He slipped his key into the lock and felt the tumblers move and the door swung open. He could tell that up those seventeen steps, Sherlock was waiting for him. He planted his foot on the first step and heard a crash and a shout. His feet pulled him up the stairs two at a time and he dropped his bags at the landing. He saw Sherlock and Sherrinford picking up a pile of books that got knocked over.  
“What the bloody hell?” John asked.  
“Hello.” Sherrinford offered. “Just me knocking things over.”  
“Alright then?” John asked. Sherrinford nodded his head. Sherlock put his stack of books back on the table and crossed the room to John. He pulled him close to him and kissed him.  
“Welcome home.” Sherlock said.  
“Hello, Love.” John said. “How are things?”  
“We are making head way.” Sherrinford said. “But I am afraid that we will need to go on a bit of a trip.”  
Sherlock shot Sherrinford a look and Sherrinford retreated into the kitchen.  
“Trip?” John asked.  
“Yes. We are sure that we know where the money is going and we want to go and see for ourselves before Sherrinford presents it to Mycroft.” Sherlock explained.  
“We can discuss this later.” John said. “I need a cuppa and I want a shower before dinner.” Sherlock nodded and kissed John on the cheek. He knew that the conversation was far from over, but he also knew John’s tone meant that he wasn’t happy.  
Sherrinford knew that he was intruding and left the flat with a vague promise to talk in the morning.

******************************************

Sherrinford walked into his flat and put his keys on the table. He could hear Isabella and Camilla in the kitchen, working on dinner. He walked into the clean and neat kitchen giving each of the girls a kiss on the cheek.  
“Hello. How was your day?” Isabella asked. Sherrinford hadn’t told her about the problem he had encountered at work or the visits to Sherlock.  
“Fine.” Sherrinford said. “And Camilla, how was school?”  
Camilla regaled him with tales of her classmates for ten minutes while Isabella finished making dinner. They ate, Camilla and Isabella filling the silence that seemed to have settled over Sherrinford. After Camilla’s bath and bed time, he sat in the lounge, staring out into the darkness. Isabella sat down on the chair opposite him and took one of his hands in hers.  
“What is it, Darling?” she asked. “Something has you upset.”  
“You are very perceptive.” Sherrinford said. He smiled a half smile at his wife and shook his head. “Something happened at work the last few days and I asked Sherlock for some help. We need to go away for a few days so that I can prove my theory. Then I can go to Mycroft with my findings.”  
“You need to go away?” Isabella asked.  
“Yes.”  
“You aren’t going to tell me where, are you?” she asked. Sherrinford shook his head. “You are trying to protect me from something.”  
“I am.” He said simply. “I don’t want to drag you into something that I got myself involved in.” Isabella sat in the dark with him for several minutes. She was turning over in her head what he had said.  
“This has something to do with the people you were involved in before.”  
“Yes.”  
“This could be dangerous.”  
“Yes.”  
“I am thankful you decided to go to your brother for help. And I won’t say a word. But there are conditions.” She said. Sherrinford cocked his head and looked at his beautiful and intelligent wife. She sat back and reached for a pad of paper and a pen. She opened a drawer and took out an envelope.  
“I am scared for you, but I trust your judgment. You and Sherlock will be good together. But you have three days. If you are not back in this house in three days I will go to John. He will decide if we tell Mycroft at that time. On this paper,” she said handing it to him, “I want you to write where you are going and what you are hoping to find. You will call me every morning and every evening at the same time. Checking in. If you miss a call, I will go to John. He will get this letter and decide what to do.” Isabella took a deep breath and surveyed her husband.  
“That sounds fair.” He said. Isabella nodded and went to the bedroom, to allow Sherrinford time to write and to pack. Sherrinford found her sitting on the edge of the bed, holding one of his shirts. He put his hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him.  
“I never thought that this would still be my life. I am experienced in people leaving to do things that are not safe. And I am worried about you. I know you are skilled and I love that you are brilliant. But it’s my job as your wife to worry.” She said. Sherrinford sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  
“When I started to work for Mycroft, I didn’t think that I would be doing this again. I thought that this part of my life was over. I figured that I would be sitting behind a desk, safe and happy. That I would come every night to you and Camilla, our life quiet and happy. But now, there is this unresolved threat hanging in the balance and as much as I want to forget that I ever saw it, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. I can’t stop feeling as if this will never be finished until I resolve it.” Sherrinford said. Isabella nodded her head.  
“I thought that we left all this behind us. I thought we would be happier here. But I understand the need to finish this.” She said. She stood up and finished putting a few things in the suitcase. “Please call Sherlock and John. Invite them over for a bit. I want to make sure that they both understand my reservations in this venture.” Sherrinford nodded his head and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and spoke in a low voice to John. Isabella got up and went into her kitchen to put on a pot of coffee while they waited for their guests.

*******************************************

“Sherlock?” John called from the sitting room while putting his mobile back into his pocket.  
“Yes?” Sherlock answered. He was up in the bedroom packing for his trip with Sherrinford.  
“Sherr just called. Isabella has reservations about him leaving on this fact finding mission. She would like us to come over for a bit to talk it out. I told him we would.” Sherlock’s footfalls were coming down the stairs and he stopped at the door way.   
“If we must.” Sherlock sighed. “But I don’t understand why we must go. Isn’t it his place to quell her fears?”  
“I’m sure he has tried. But considering what they have been through, it’s reasonable for her to be upset and if we can help her, then I would like to do so. So, no complaining. Let’s go.” Sherlock crossed his arms across his chest and surveyed John.  
“If we must.” John gave him a stare that had Sherlock adverting his eyes and gliding down the stairs.  
Isabella and Sherrinford had chosen a flat about five city blocks from 221B Baker Street. Sherlock and John decided to walk in the darkened sky, the air crisp with the beginnings of the autumn in the air. Sherlock shoved his hands in his pockets and walked a bit behind John. He was sulking and John wasn’t waiting for him to catch up. He knew that Sherlock’s long legs could easily close the distance between them if he chose too, but he was upset that John wanted to help his brother.  
John stopped on the top of the stoop and knocked on the door. Isabella opened the door and John kissed her cheek as he walked into the flat. Sherrinford was waiting for them in the lounge. Sherlock sat on the sofa with a thump and John gave him a warning glare.  
“Sherlock.” He whispered in a warning tone. Sherlock pulled his lips between his teeth and huffed out a breath.  
“Thank you both for coming.” Sherrinford said. “I hope that you can help me put Isabella at ease.”  
“Our pleasure.” John said. Sherlock started to make a noise, but a sharp elbow in the ribs from John stopped it. “Isabella, what has you so worried?” John asked.  
“I’m afraid for Sherrinford and for Sherlock. I don’t know where they are going. Sherrinford tells me that it’s better that I don’t know. I asked him to write it all down so that I can give it to you. I asked him to call me the same time twice a day and to be home in three days. If he’s not home or misses a call, I will come to you for help.” She explained. “I hope that it’s alright.”  
“Isabella, I don’t have to tell you that I worry about Sherlock daily, hourly. It never gets easier.” He took Sherlock’s hand in his. “But, I trust this man with my life. And he has proven again and again that most of the time the decisions he makes are correct.”  
“I am worried that they are getting mixed up in something that will harm them.” Isabella said, he voice cracking and her eyes welling with glistening tears. Sherrinford looked at his wife and saw her face was full of unspoken concern and worry.  
“Is, if I didn’t think this was worth it, I wouldn’t be pursuing it. But I have to know. And Sherlock is the only person I could think that I trust to help me figure this out.” Sherrinford explained.  
“You know that he took down most of the network alone.” John added. “It scared the hell out of me to think what he had to do alone. But together, the Holmes brothers are unbeatable.” Sherlock squeezed John’s hand a bit and Isabella nodded.  
“I trust you.” She said to Sherlock. “But I’m still scared.” Sherlock leaned into her a bit.  
“Isabella, Sherrinford and I may not see eye to eye. However, he is still my blood. I will not let harm come to him. He has presented me with a puzzle and I deem to solve it.”   
“Thank you.” She said. “It probably seems silly to you both. But I needed reassurance.” 

**************************************  
John sat back on the sofa at 221B Baker Street and sighed. Sherlock pulled off his jacket and laid it over the chair. He sat down next to John on the sofa and threaded his fingers through John’s hand.  
“All right then?” John asked.  
“Thank you.”   
“For what?”  
“For believing in me, for trusting me, and for taking care of my sister-in-law.” He said. John smiled.  
“It’s what I do. And Love, I do trust you. I trust you with my life. But you know I do worry.”  
“I know. It’s interesting, though, how you don’t show it when we are working. Or when I am working on my own.”  
“Sherlock, Love, you know I worry about you all the time. I am just really, really good at two things. Stuffing everything down, and compartmentalizing. Every time you walk through that door, I can breathe again. I know that you are home and you are safe.”  
“I never knew that.” Sherlock said quietly.   
“I know that you didn’t realize it, but you know it.” John corrected. “I love you.”  
“I love you, too.” Sherlock said. “Now, enough. You weren’t in our bed last night and I don’t know when I will be home again. I want to make the most of tonight.” John smiled and Sherlock swooped into kiss him.

******************************************************

John hung his head as he watched the family that he had been meeting with leave the office. True, he had been able to prove that the procedure that took the life of their young son was indeed performed incorrectly, and that they could take their case to court to be filed. But it still hurt that a life had been ended because of carelessness. He looked at his mobile that was sitting on the edge of the desk. Before Sherlock left that morning, he had made him promise that he would text when he landed and call once in a while. But he wasn’t holding his breath intentionally. He knew that when Sherlock was on the case, there was nothing that could distract him.  
John looked at the stack of cases on his desk and decided that it was best if he kept working. He pulled out the first case with a sigh and began to look over the medical reports.  
Molly knocked on his door a bit before noon and John realized that he had been working for three hours straight without stop. He looked up at her glowing face and ever growing belly. He smiled a little.  
“How about some lunch?” Molly asked. “This little one is asking for Thai. You interested in joining Harry and I?” John nodded and grabbed his jacket and phone before joining the girls in the hall.  
“Where is Sherlock?” Harry asked. They had all decided the night before that it was better if they kept it quiet for a few days and if anyone asked, Sherlock was on a private case and he needed some help with accounting and took his brother along. Mycroft wouldn’t believe it for long, but it was hopefully enough to keep him from figuring it out before the information they were searching for was obtained.  
“He’s away on a case for a few days. I don’t remember if he told me where he was going. I was a bit tired last night with being in Brussels and all. Plus, he often thinks he has told me something and hasn’t.” John said. Harry narrowed her eyes and looked at her brother. Years of living with Sherlock had given John an excellent poker face and he employed it now. Harry seemed appeased, and the trio went off to eat.

**************************************

It wasn’t that Sherlock hated to fly. In fact he loved the adventure of traveling. What he hated was not being able to move on his own. It was true that he often sat still for hours on end, but it was by his design and his choice. Being told to sit in a small uncomfortable seat and not to move around for any length of time was not what Sherlock was used to. But due to the secretive nature of their travels, the brother Holmes decided to fly commercial. Sherrinford was fidgety in the seat next to him, but much to Sherlock’s joy, silent through most of the eight hour flight. The plane landed with a shudder and Sherlock thought back, briefly, to his last visit to Moscow. At least he was able to travel under his own name this time.  
Passing through customs, Sherlock hailed a cab at the curb and directed the cabbie in basic Russian to the hotel where they were staying.  
“How many languages do you speak?” Sherrinford asked, marveling.  
“Fluently, seven. Perfunctorily, another dozen or so.” Sherlock answered.  
“That’s a lot. But I knew when you were little you had a gift for them. I always marveled at the way you switched between French and English when you were still so young.” Sherlock chuckled a bit.  
“And to be perfectly honest, your French sucks.” Sherlock said. Sherrinford laughed.   
“That it does.” They climbed out of the cab and Sherlock thrust some money at the cabbie. Sherlock swirled with his coat into the lobby and registered them both. They went up in the lift to their rooms.  
“Dinner?” Sherrinford asked.  
“Seven.” Sherlock answered and entered his room, shutting the door behind him.

*****************************************  
John was sitting on the sofa, watching crap tellie with a rapidly cooling cup of tea in his hand. He wasn’t paying attention to what he was watching. His mobile was in his other hand, his knuckles going white with pressure as he was holding it. He jumped at the vibration. He looked at the screen.  
“Hello, Love.” He said, trying to keep the relief and worry out of his voice.  
“Hello.”  
“How was your flight?” John asked, settling back into the cushions some.  
“Fine.”  
“What’s wrong?” John said after a beat. He noted the stress in Sherlock’s voice.  
“It’s been a while since I was back here and it’s been a bit… Well, it’s not easy being here again.” Sherlock said. “I wish you were with me.” It was so quiet, that John wasn’t sure if he had heard him.  
“I do, too.” He decided to answer. “How are things with your brother?”  
“They are… They just are.” Sherlock said. He wasn’t sure how else to describe it.  
“I know, Love. But you are doing a good thing.” John reassured him.  
“Tell me about your day.” Sherlock said. “I need to think about what you are doing, what you did today. I need to hear it.” It was almost a plea.  
John proceeded to tell him about his day and he could hear Sherlock relaxing a bit on the other end of the phone.  
“Love, are you alright?” John asked after a while.  
“I’m not. But I will be. The minute this is over and I am home in your arms.” Sherlock said.   
“If you want to talk about it….” John offered.  
“I know. I really don’t want to talk about it. I just feel a little…. Odd being back here.”  
“You were there before…” John let out a sigh. “You were there while you were working.” He spit out finally. John chastised himself. He was tired of using euphemisms and other halted words to describe all the bad times in his life. He resolved to stop doing it.  
“Yes. All though this time the company is only marginally improved. But the accommodations are sparse. My bed seems to be missing a doctor.” Sherlock said with an edge. He was trying to distract himself.   
“And my bed seems to be missing a stroppy consulting detective. But if that detective is smart, he will get what he needs to do done and come home quickly.”  
“Then stop distracting me, John.” Sherlock said. John smiled. Sherrinford knocked on the door and Sherlock growled out a response to wait a moment. “That’s my brother. It must be time for dinner.”  
“Make sure to eat. Not just push the food around your plate. I’ll talk to you again soon.” John said.  
“I love you.” Sherlock said.  
“I love you, too.” John rung off the mobile phone, and sat with his hands on his knees. He felt better after talking to Sherlock, but he was a bit rattled at his lover’s decidedly stressed voice. He knew that Sherlock had done things while he had been away that occasionally still gave him nightmares. John shook his head to clear out the cobwebs and climbed the stairs to their empty bed to get some rest.

*************************************

Sherlock sat at the table in the café watching. He was good at waiting, but he didn’t like having Sherrinford at his side instead of John. He knew John. He knew that he was safe with John. He wasn’t sure about his brother; he still didn’t trust him.  
“Sherlock.” Sherrinford said quietly as a new patron came into the café. “I know him.” He whispered between his teeth. Sherlock gave him a curt nod and picked up his cold coffee. He studied the man who was ordering a complicated drink to go.  
Sherlock got up from his seat and followed the man as he left the café. Sherlock was careful enough at trailing people to feel that he had the advantage, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to where they were going. He was dividing his attention to Sherrinford and didn’t realize they were in a blind alley until it was too late.  
“What do you want?” the man they had been following asked in accented Russian. Sherlock deduced he was from South Africa. But he wasn’t native to there either. His accent had been obscured many times.  
“I’m sorry.” Sherlock offered in English. “You look like someone I went to school with.”   
“No, Mr. Holmes,” the man offered, “You were following me.”  
“You… know who I am?” Sherlock asked, trying to keep his voice level.  
“No. I don’t know who you are, but the gentleman there.” The South African accent striking fear in Sherrinford’s heart.  
“Snyder.” Sherrinford breathed out.  
“Hello, Sherrinford.” Snyder said. “Who is your…. muscle, now?”  
“Terrance Snyder, my brother Sherlock Holmes.” Sherrinford said, relaxing a bit.   
“The famous detective.” Snyder said. “I’ve read about you.”  
“I’m sorry to say you have the advantage.” Sherlock said with distain. “Let us discuss our business like civilized men.”  
“Yes, let’s.” Snyder agreed. “I assume you came about the money.” Sherlock gave him a curt nod and they began to walk to a nearby bar. It was a local pub, dark and dank on the inside. The chances of anyone speaking English was remote.  
The three men found a table to sit at and Snyder ordered vodka for them. Sherlock toyed with his glass that sat in front of him.  
“Moran and Moriarty are gone.” Sherlock said. “I finished the web myself. We took down the money network. What are you doing?”  
Snyder laughed a bit. His skin was dark and tanned, his hair gone, and his head shone a bit in the light. His eyes looked like two dark pools in his face and his skin was craggy and marked with age. Sherlock was sure that he was a mercenary for hire. “The money. I am very well aware that they are gone. I know the financial network is done. But I had set up several accounts that would pull a bit here and there for a while. Just to meet my needs, a few hundred every couple of weeks. But I was able to hack the network and move some of it around. I’m still trailing a few things. I suspect that you are too.” He took a quick drink of his clear liquid and poured another. Sherrinford looked at him.  
“He’s still out there, isn’t he.” He asked. Snyder smiled, his face lopsided with some old nerve injury. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.  
“Brother, who is still out there?” Sherlock was concerned that there was an unnamed threat and he wasn’t telling him everything. Sherrinford watched Snyder for his answer.  
“You know the answer to that if you think about it.” He took another drink.  
“Sherrinford, I think you and I need to talk.” Sherrinford nodded his head.  
“Snyder, I think we can help each other.” Snyder shook his head.   
“I’m done. I was following one last lead here. I knew that someone had been looking at the money for the last week. I pulled out my resources. I have enough to disappear. Move to some small island. Settle down. Move in a hut with some pretty young island girl. It’s time to retire.” Snyder watched the two men for a moment. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a Moleskin notebook. It was well used and its pages were thick with various items shoved between them. He handed it to Sherlock. “It’s everything I have on him. I’m done.” He downed one more shot, got up from the table and disappeared out the door.   
Sherrinford scrubbed his face with his hands. Sherlock put the book into his pocket and took the shot glass in front of him. In one smooth motion, he slammed the drink down and watched his brother. Sherrinford hid his face in his hands, his elbows on the table and his shoulders rounded with the weight.  
“Just as I think my life is finally headed in the right direction, that it’s quiet and easy, it all comes tumbling down.”  
“Who was Snyder chasing?” Sherlock asked, his voice quiet yet demanding. Sherrinford moved his hands and looked at his brother.  
“There was an assassin that Moriarty used. We, the people that worked in the network, believed that there was a connection to Moran. Something more than a working relationship, but we were never able to prove it. Snyder and I spoke often. He was my contact for weapons. I sent him money when he called. I had known him in passing when I was working in Colombia. Our paths had crossed then. But this man he has been chasing…. He makes Jack the Ripper look sane. He is crazed and merciless.”  
Sherlock considered the information for a while. He thought about all the mutterings and ramblings he had encountered while he was taking down Moriarty’s network. One name suddenly stood out. Sherlock chewed on his lip for a moment, thinking. He thought the name was Moran. But he knew now he had missed it.  
“Diabhal.” Sherlock muttered. Sherrinford nodded.   
“He is real. And if what Snyder said is right, he’s still out there. He is most likely trying to figure out who is still left and kill them off.” Sherrinford said. “This is worse than I thought.”  
Sherlock rose from the table and Sherrinford watched him with hazel eyes. “Time to go home.” Sherlock said. “We need to speak to Mycroft.” Sherlock turned on his heel and left the bar.


	8. It All Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherrinford and Sherlock come home. Are there new threats to worry about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful, fantastic and inspiring beta, mafm just sent me the rest of the chapters. And being that I read really really really fast (somewhere in the neighborhood of 600 words per minute with 98% comprehension, but I am really proud of it. Not bragging) I ran through her changes, made a few myself and wanted to get another chapter up.  
> I am working on a new piece, but I'm a little disappointed with the way it's going already. Sigh.  
> But... here we go. Maybe now I can concentrate more since Fargo is over.
> 
> Keep up the comments. Love them.
> 
> Take care readers.... and now.... on with the show.........

Chapter 8- It All Comes Home

Sherlock spent the time on the flight reading through the careful notes and observations that Snyder had put to paper in his book. Sherlock closed the book after some time and rested his head against the back of his seat. Sherrinford watched his brother as he closed his eyes and tried to make sense of the whole picture.  
The plane touched down and Sherlock had still not said a word to his brother. They gathered their bags and settled into the back of a cab. Sherrinford turned towards his younger brother and cleared his throat.  
“I will meet you at Mycroft’s office in the morning.” Sherlock said.  
“That’s it?”  
“At the moment, yes.” Sherlock said. “I need to think.”  
“You have been thinking.” Sherrinford said. “I’m worried.”  
“As you should be; and as should I. But tonight, I need to think.” Sherrinford huffed in frustration.   
“Fine.” He spat. Sherlock got out of the cab at Baker Street and turned back to his brother.  
“I think some of the information in the book is very old. But I’m not sure that at one point it wasn’t relevant. I am sure that I am missing something. I often miss one detail. I will be talking it over with John this evening. Tomorrow we will tell Mycroft. But tonight, go home. Kiss Isabella. Kiss Camilla. Forget for tonight. We will finish this tomorrow.” Sherlock gave his brother a small smile and left, closing the door behind him.

********************************************************  
John heard the door to the cab downstairs shut and he smiled over his wine glass. He did not know Sherlock was coming home and he was pleased with the surprise. Sherrinford had checked in with Isabella earlier and she called to tell John that all was well. He looked at his sister, who was sitting opposite him and his brother-in-law who was working on his mobile from the sofa.  
“Sherlock.” Mycroft said. “It seems that my brothers have returned home. With more questions than answers, I suspect.”  
John picked up his mobile and dialed the restaurant where he had recently ordered take-away and added something for Sherlock. He wasn’t sure if he would eat, but if there was food, he might pick at it later. Sherlock came into the sitting room and hung up his coat. John beamed a smile at him. He could see the tension in Sherlock’s shoulders.  
“Hello love.” Sherlock said. He came to give John a kiss and then turned to kiss Harry. “Harry, Mycroft.” He nodded to his brother. “I am actually glad you are here. I am going to shower. Then we need to speak.” Mycroft looked at his brother and nodded.   
“I ordered some food. We will wait to eat until you join us.” Sherlock nodded and went up the stairs to his new bathroom to shower and change.  
Mycroft put his phone to his ear and spoke softly for a moment. He then pocketed his phone and strode to the stairs. He walked down them easily, John noticed. The doctor reflected that his injuries had healed well. He also noted that Mycroft had been running again and had lost a few pounds. Harry looked the best she had in years and John settled back on his chair.  
“Married life agrees with you this time.” John remarked.  
“Yes. But I am also glad to be working again.” She said.  
“I’m glad we got to have this time together.” John said. “Mycroft was right. We needed each other.”  
“Johnny, I love this. I think Mum would be happy.”  
“That she would.” John agreed. Mycroft returned his messenger bag over one shoulder, and carrying take away bags in the other.  
“I got dinner.” He said depositing the bags on the table. Sherlock reappeared, his hair still damp from his shower and dressed in soft cotton pants and a faded tee shirt that John noted was his. He smiled to himself and Sherlock shrugged as he pulled his blue dressing gown around himself a bit.

**********************************************

Sherlock filled the other three in on his time with Sherrinford and the details in the book while they ate. Mycroft pulled his iPad out of his bag and sat back, flicking though page after page. He nodded occasionally and Sherlock picked at his curry.  
“I am missing something.” Sherlock admitted.  
“Is it possible, that the person that they are tracking is dead?” Harry offered. “I mean there were a lot of people involved in this network. There could be a communication breakdown.”  
“It’s possible.” Sherlock agreed. “But there is something else. I have considered that Diabhal is dead.”  
“What does that word mean?” John asked. It struck a bit of a familiar chord in the back of his mind. But he couldn’t quite place it.  
“It’s Gaelic. It means Devil.” Mycroft mumbled from his spot on the sofa. John nodded. He pressed his lips together in a tight line. Harry looked at her watch.  
“Myc, it’s late. Let’s go home. We will all sleep on it. I’ll arrange for us to work from home tomorrow and we will have Sherrinford over in the late morning. Let him have a bit of time with Isabella.” She looked at her brother and brother–in-law. “Sherlock, get some sleep. It will come. I have confidence in you. We all do. I’ll expect you at the house at eleven.” John nodded his head, but he knew that Sherlock was drifting. Towards his mind palace or sleep he wasn’t sure. Harry kissed her brother goodbye and John shut the door after them.   
John was picking up the containers and other debris from around the sitting room. He switched off a few lights.  
“Bed.” He said. Sherlock nodded and stood up. He seemed dead on his feet. John followed him up the stairs and got ready for bed. Sherlock was already settled against his side of the bed when John crawled in. Sherlock pulled John close to him, nuzzling his neck.  
“I missed you.” Sherlock said.  
“I missed you too.” John said. He let out a big yawn. “Now, sleep, love. You never know what might come in a dream.” Sherlock kissed John’s neck and nodded, already feeling sleep drawing him down.

*******************************************

John was standing at the sink, shaving, when Sherlock leaned against the counter. “Why were Mycroft and Harry here last night?” he asked. John turned to him.  
“My sister and I were working. She and I had been going over a case of hers regarding medications for various medical aliments. Mycroft had joined us for dinner when you came home. He hadn’t been here for more than fifteen minutes when you came.” John said, rinsing his razor in the sink. “Why?”  
“Just wondering what you do with your time when I am not around.”  
“Oh.” John wiped the last of the shaving foam off of his face and reached up to kiss Sherlock’s cheek. “We just chat about you as a child.” Sherlock’s mouth dropped into a perfect o.  
John went into the bedroom and opened up his wardrobe to pull out a button down and a jumper for the day. He knocked off a shirt and bent down to get it. He reached back into the wardrobe to retrieve it when his hand hit the box that was full of mementoes from his marriage. He stopped, stilling as his mind whirled around him.  
“Sherlock, did Mycroft say that Diabhal means devil?” John asked.  
“Yes.” Sherlock asked. He noticed John was still. “Why?”  
“I know who Diabhal is.” John said quietly. “At least I think I do.” John sat on the floor of the bedroom and drew his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his leg and rested his chin on his knees. Sherlock came to sit next to him.  
“Do you want to tell me?” Sherlock asked carefully.  
“I will. Just give me a minute. I think I will take a page from your book and wait until we are all together. I don’t want to repeat myself.” Sherlock nodded and pulled out his clothes to dress. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to deduce who John had realized they were so afraid of.  
“I will let you tell us all at once. But, I have one question.” John looked up at Sherlock. “Are we in danger?”  
John laughed. He laughed hard and louder. It was the laugh of mania and Sherlock was nervous. John stood up, wiping tears from his eyes, his laughs dying on his lips after a moment.  
“Love, we are always in danger.” John kissed Sherlock. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

*******************************************

Harry put the coffee pot down on the table and sat down next to Mycroft. She was unsure what to think. Sherlock was so on edge he was nearly vibrating. Mycroft was talking to Sherrinford, trying to fill him in on what they had discussed the previous evening. Sherrinford sat with his arms across his chest and he looked upset by the betrayal from his brother.  
“Sherlock.” Sherrinford said when Mycroft had finished speaking.  
“I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t mean to betray your trust. However, you will see in a moment that doing so might have saved us a quite a bit of time.”  
“What is that supposed to mean?” Mycroft asked. John smiled.  
“I think I know who we are looking for.” 

*************************************

John was sitting on the sofa in his lounge. He had just finished a lovely take away meal that Mary had brought over. Their relationship was still new and they were still getting to know each other. They had finally slept together the week before, but they were still in that awkward space in a new relationship. Mary sat down on the sofa next to John and he wrapped his arm around her, instinctively.  
“Dinner was lovely.” He said. “Ta for bringing it over.”  
“You are most welcome.” She answered settling into his arm.  
“It’s nice to have someone else worrying about me for a change. You are an angel.” John said brushing a kiss across her temple.  
“John, darling, I am not an angel.” She laughed. “I am Diabhal, the devil.”  
“But you are mine.” He said kissing her again. “What language is that?” he asked off handedly.  
“Irish.”  
“I didn’t know you spoke it.” John mentioned.  
“I don’t. My brother nicknamed me Diabhal when we were kids. I was a real hell-raiser and I had little remorse.” She said. John smiled.  
“You seemed to have settled.” He said. She smiled a dark smile at him.  
“Let’s go in the bedroom and see if I can change your mind.”

*******************************************

John savored the moment. He picked up his coffee cup and took a long pull off of it. He smiled over the rim as all the eyes were on him. He sighed as he put down his cup.  
“The most interesting part of this is that there are three Holmes brothers sitting here, seeing, but not observing.” John purposely used the common phrase that Sherlock often verbally berated people with.  
“So, dear, enlighten us.” Sherlock nearly snarled. John smiled and laughed a little to himself. He knew that Sherlock hated when John was able to throw his words back at him.  
“Our chickens have come home to roost.” John said. “Think for a moment, darling,” he started. “Where in any of the notes does it say that Diabhal is male? In any of your… interviews, was gender expressed?” John held his tongue for a moment as Sherlock and the rest considered the words. It took a moment, but John saw the realization come across his face. Mycroft took a moment longer, but it came to him as well.  
“Mary.” Sherlock breathed. John bit his lip and nodded.   
“My wife.”  
“What?” Sherrinford asked. He was stunned by John’s admission.   
“Why do you think Mary was the devil?” Harry asked. “Besides the obvious?”  
“But, you are a widower, correct?” Sherrinford asked, trying to figure it all out. John nodded.  
“I am. When Mary and I were still dating, she told me once that her brother had nick named her Diabhal when they were children. It was the same conversation that I recalled when we first discovered Moran was my brother-in-law. It clicked this morning when I saw the box in the back of the wardrobe.” Sherlock pulled John close to him and put his arms around him.  
“You are brilliant.” Sherlock said. John smiled warmly.  
“So, your wife is dead, right?” Sherrinford said.  
“Yes.” John sighed.  
“So, there is no danger, correct?” Sherrinford asked.  
“Sherrinford, it’s over. It’s all over.” Sherlock said, a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying off of his shoulders.  
“Good.” Sherrinford said.  
Harry got up from the table and kissed her brother on his cheek. “You sure know how to pick them.” John laughed and bit and Sherlock showed her a mock scowl before joining John in laughter.


	9. Silver Boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna give you one. Have to read it. Summary gives too much away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sniff, sniff. Love this chapter. Not exactly what I thought it would be when I first started thinking about it at the beginning of the first part, but, I love it none the less.

Chapter 9- Silver Boxes

Sherlock stood in the entry at Mycroft’s house, looking in the mirror that hung there. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled. The clock in the hall chimed and Sherlock heard Anthea’s light heels on the floor.  
“How in God’s name do you walk in those?” he asked. Anthea smiled.  
“Carefully.” She said as she came near. She looked him over and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”  
“For what?” he asked as he stood back a bit.  
“For finding a reason to stop. For finding your heart, which I always knew was there.” Sherlock used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear from her eye. “I hated seeing you… well; I helped pick you up out of the gutter more times than I care to admit. And I am so happy that you have found something, someone worth living for.”  
“It’s all John. It’s always John.” Sherlock said with a shrug. Anthea leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.  
“Oi!” Greg yelled from the stairs. “Don’t make moves on my girl!” Sherlock laughed.  
“Not my division.” He jested. Greg let out a large laugh. Sherlock smiled.  
“Ready?” he asked. Sherlock nodded. They headed out of the house and to the car that was waiting in the drive.  
**********************************  
The car was waiting at the curb and John dashed out of Baker Street, Harry tapping her nails on the door and getting impatient with waiting. Mycroft was looking out of the window when John slid across the seat and shut the door.  
“Last chance to back out.” Mycroft said. “I can still set you up with a new identity and money to be comfortable.” It had been a running joke between them as Mycroft was initially giving John a chance to change his mind.  
“Sherlock would find me. And make your life a living hell… again.” John quipped. Mycroft gave him a rare smile and nodded.  
“I don’t want that again.” Harry smiled.  
The car arrived at the non-descript building that housed the local registry. John climbed out of the car and Harry and Mycroft followed close behind.  
“I’m kind of glad we are doing this now.” John said. “I couldn’t stand a big wedding again.” John stopped in his tracks. Sherlock was standing just inside the door and John’s breath caught in his throat. The man who normal wore a suit everyday looked more handsome in his dark grey newly made suit. He had chosen it with care and even wore a silver tie against the white shirt he had chosen. Anthea and Harry insisted they both wore flowers on their lapels and Sherlock wore a small white calla lily. John smiled as he came up to Sherlock and Sherlock looked up at the last second and his eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of John.  
John had decided that at this point in his life, he needed to spend money on a good suit. Mycroft took him to his tailor and a suit of deep navy was cut for John. It fit him better than any suit had ever fit him before and he looked more stoic than Sherlock usually thought he did. The sky blue shirt and red tie gave him an air of regality and Sherlock smiled.  
“Hello.” Sherlock was able to stammer out.  
“Hello yourself.” John said matching his smile.  
“Ready?” he asked. John looked at his shoes for a moment as if he was considering. Sherlock made a noise and John smiled.  
“I guess. No turning back now.” John said. Sherlock blanched and looked at John. His face softened as he realized John was having him on, and he smiled again. John took him by the hand and they walked to the office. Harry and Mycroft followed close behind.

**********************************

Mycroft and Harry went on ahead and left Sherlock and John their own car. John settled into the seat and Sherlock pulled his hand into his as soon as the door shut behind him.  
“Husband.” Sherlock said.  
“Husband” John repeated. “Are you sure you want to do this?”  
“No. I really don’t.” Sherlock said. “But it is important to all the people we love.”   
“Well, then.” John started. He was unable to finish as his husband pulled him across the seat and into his lap. He took John’s face in his hands and brought his lips to his own. The kiss was deep and loving and after a moment John opened his lips to allow Sherlock’s tongue to find its way into his mouth. But their time in the back of the car was short lived. The car came to a stop and John scrambled to find his own seat again, panting. Sherlock shifted a bit to accommodate the discomfort in his trousers.  
“Can’t we just go home?” Sherlock asked.  
“We could. But we risk someone coming to collect us. It’s just a couple of hours. Then we have the rest of our lives.” John answered. He took Sherlock’s hand in his, the ring feeling cool against his heated skin. “Let’s go, love.” Sherlock nodded and they climbed out of the car.  
Being that John had already had a large wedding, both he and Sherlock stated over and over again there was no need for a large ceremony, that simple was what they wanted. After signing the documents at the register’s office, they wanted to go home and spend the day as any other. Harry and Anthea insisted that there was a least a gathering of family and friends. Sherlock’s mother tutted at him until the couple acquiesced and allowed the women to plan a proper wedding party. Sherlock and John insisted on final approval of the guest list and they all but stamped their feet when Angelo’s was deemed unacceptable. Finally the girls agreed and Sherlock felt a bit better for being on familiar ground. Angelo closed the restaurant in order to accommodate the party. He would do anything for Sherlock and John.  
The party was in full swing when John and Sherlock opened the door and walked in. They were met with cheers and cat calls. John smiled and a small blush fell over his face. Sherlock decided to shut them all at once and took John, spun him so they were facing one another and took John in a deep kiss that bordered on the obscene. It did the trick.  
“Right then.” John said when he regained his breath. He took a glass of champagne from his sister and downed it in one go.  
***********************************************

The party had mostly broken up. Martha and Ben had stayed longer than anyone thought they would, and in the end, they took Camilla back to Mycroft’s so that Sherrinford and Isabella could enjoy themselves a bit longer. Sherlock was nearly slumped into a chair and John was resting his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. They both looked out over the long table that contained their family. Greg and Anthea were sitting knee to knee talking in low voices, smiling at each other and casual. Mycroft had his tie undone and his top two buttons on his shirt open. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and he had an arm resting on the back of Harry’s chair. She was leaning into his hand that gently rubbed her shoulder as they talked with Molly and Rob. Molly’s hand was resting on her large belly and she was aglow with impending motherhood. Rob was talking with Sherrinford and Isabella was listening to Molly and talking of babies. Sherlock leaned in and kissed John on his temple.  
“I think it’s time.” He said. John nodded and rose to retrieve the bag he had brought to the bar earlier that day. Sherlock sat up a bit straighter and tapped his glass with a knife. The ringing got everyone’s attention. John handed each person present a small silver box, each one a different size and shape. All were wrapped in the same shimmery silver paper.  
“John and I would like to thank each one of you. You are our family. And in putting up with us for the last handful of years, we realized that it was our turn to thank each one of you.” Sherlock said.  
“But it’s your wedding. You are the ones who should be getting gifts.” Harry protested.  
“Yes. That’s correct. But as you remember, John and I asked that you each make a donation instead of buying a silly gift. Unless Molly has a body part for me.” Sherlock asked, half hopeful. Molly shook her head with a smile and Sherlock pretended to be upset.  
“So, what’s with this, then?” Greg asked.  
“We wanted to find something for each of you that expressed our feelings of gratitude and love. I have one for Camilla as well.” John said reaching into the bag and handing a small box to Isabella. “Well, go on then. Open them.” John said with a smile. He pulled out another box from his jacket pocket and handed it to Sherlock. “Open yours as well love.”  
“John?” Sherlock asked. John smiled. It wasn’t often he was able to be two steps ahead of Sherlock and he relished it when he was. John gave him an encouraging nod. Sherlock ripped at the paper and pulled out the box. Carefully lifting the lid, he found a silver colored piece of metal nestled inside. “Dog tags.”  
“Mine.” Sherlock pulled it out of the box and noted that one was slightly bent and ragged at the edge. “It was where I was shot. I was shifted and it flew to my shoulder. I seriously doubt it, but I often used to imagine that part of it is still in me.”  
“And I have the rest now.” Sherlock said. His eyes softened with love and he drew John in for a kiss. He stopped and turned when he heard Mycroft cough.  
“Sherlock. John.” Mycroft said. He understood the weight of the gifts they had all been given.   
“When Sherlock and I discussed a gift to all of you at length, there was only one option we kept coming back to. And this is it.” John said, his hand indicating the boxes.  
“What does this mean, exactly?” Greg asked, looking for the hidden string.  
“Equals. You all were instrumental in some part of our initial relationship, our survival and our success. This bit of paper, this card, shows just how much we love each of you.” John said.  
“So,” Harry said slowly, “We all now have an equal stake in the company?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. “You are now our partners. The lawyers drew up the papers. They will be in the office on Monday for all of you to sign. Then it will be an eight way partnership.”  
“Are you sure?” Molly asked.  
“Positive.” John said. “We want to make sure that the people we love don’t work for us but with us. It’s better that way. We all work together. For each other. As we always have.”  
Mycroft got up and hugged his brother-in-law. John was shocked at both the speed at which Mycroft moved and the sentiment he was showing. But after a second of shock he hugged him back.  
“Thank you.” Mycroft said. His words were simple. Two syllables, but they spoke volumes. He was not just thanking him for the gift, but for Harry. For Sherlock. For his own life. For everything John gave him.  
“No, Mycroft. Thank you.” John said. Molly sniffled and John began to laugh. Sherlock joined him and the eight people around the table hugged and kissed and wiped away tears. Greg hugged John. He grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pulled him too.  
“I am proud to say that I know two great men who finally found each other. And by the way, Donovan won the pool.” Sherlock laughed and slapped Greg on the back.  
“Good. She deserves it.”


	10. Reflections in Tragedy- Ten years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tragedy and reflections on a life well lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful beta, mafm, sent me note after this chapter. She said it was so sad and perfect. I happen to agree. I hope you didn't put your tissues too far away. You are going to need them. And I know. Another chapter already? I so want to share this with you all and I couldn't wait. So here is this and in ten seconds the last will be up too.

Chapter 10- Reflections in Tragedy  
Ten Years Later

It was a Tuesday morning when John picked up the phone. Vanessa rarely called him, but to hear from her was not uncommon. Sherlock and John had dinner with Mike Stamford and his wife every once in a while. Sherlock and John both felt they owed Mike everything for introducing them in the first place. And now ten years into their marriage they had found an easy friendship with the other couple.  
“Good morning Vanessa. How are you?” John answered the ring on his mobile cheerfully.  
“John.” Vanessa croaked. Her voice was thick and John could hear the tears. He stopped his motions at making tea and Sherlock’s face turned towards him.  
“What’s wrong?” John asked.  
“Mike.” Vanessa was able to say before she dissolved into tears. John heard the phone being handed to someone and John realized it was James, Vanessa and Mike’s oldest boy.  
“Dr. Watson. It’s James. I’m sorry to tell you, my father had a heart attack last night. He passed away early this morning.” John pressed his lips into a tight line and held his phone tight in his hand. Sherlock crossed the room in three strides to be at John’s side.  
“James, Jesus. I’m sorry. What can we do?” John asked.  
“Mom asked that I tell you. She wanted to herself, but you understand.”  
“James, tell her I understand.” John said. “I know how hard it is to lose a spouse.”  
“Ah, the other thing is Mom would like to know, if it’s not too much trouble if you or Sherlock would speak at the services.” James asked.  
“Absolutely.” John said as Sherlock nodded his head. There was no question. “We would be honored.”  
“Great.” James said. “I’ll let you know when we have everything arranged.”  
“Please. And if there is anything…” John let the rest settle. He took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry James. Tell your mother how much… that I am… That we…” John’s resolve was gone. He felt the tears at the edge of his vision.  
“Thank you.” James said. “Talk soon.” He rang off. John put his mobile on the top of the work surface and folded himself into Sherlock’s arms.  
“Heart attack.” Sherlock said. John nodded against Sherlock’s chest. “Fuck.”  
“I know.” John mumbled.  
“Would you be upset if I spoke?” Sherlock asked a bit later. They were sitting on the sofa, the tellie on in the background.  
“No. I think it might be better. I don’t think I could keep the emotions at bay.” John admitted. He had known Mike a long time and counted him as a good friend.

*************************************

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked out across the gathered friends and family at the service. John looked upset and he was holding Molly’s hand. She and Greg had come, both knowing Mike from Bart’s. Sherlock had not shared what he was going to say with John and John was a bit nervous.  
“My name is Sherlock Holmes. I am honored that Vanessa asked if I would say a few words today. Those of you who know me, know that I am not a sentimental man. I do not find any comfort in the trappings of religion in general and I do not mourn life lost. I know that some of you are anxious as to what I might say today. But, firstly I want to express my deepest sympathy to Vanessa, James, and Holly as well as the rest of the family. Mike’s loss is profound and painful and I am genuinely sorry for your loss.” He took a deep breath as Vanessa closed her eyes and nodded her thanks. Sherlock continued.  
“I first met Mike in the lab at St. Bart’s. As a teaching hospital, they have some of the best lab equipment and I was able to charm my way into using it from time to time. Sixteen years ago, I was complaining to Mike about finding a flat mate. Mike was a smart man. He read the complaint for what it really was -a cry of loneliness. Later that day, Mike took his lunch to the park, as was his want, and ran into an old school mate from their days of study. In a conversation with the recently returned veteran army doctor, his friend mentioned that he too was looking for a flat share. Mike introduced us an hour later.” Sherlock smiled.  
“I am not by nature a sociable person. I loathe groups and crowds. One-on-one contact is generally too over whelming for me. But occasionally I can be settled by one person. After some time, I grew to like Mike. He was a good doctor. He was caring and pleasant. But in that day sixteen years ago, my ledger had a mark of red in it. I owed Mike Stamford a great debt. I did not understand at that time the enormity of the debt and most days I still do not. I know that I never even came close to erasing that debt. For in that brief conversation in the park and a simple introduction in a lab, Mike introduced me to the one person that I hold above all. The one person that makes me a better man. The love and light of my life. I owe Mike for that. And now, with this untimely and unfortunate passing of a good man, I will never be able to repay him. I owe Mike Stamford my life. He showed me the man who opened my heart. And I know that my husband John feels the same. I know that a chance meeting with Mike was all it took for John to travel down the path, away from the destruction of himself and the possible ending of his own life. So, Vanessa, James, Holly, I want you to know that Mike was a good man. A man that I am honored to call a friend and to whom I owe everything.”  
John wiped his eyes and Molly stroked his hand. Vanessa got up and hugged Sherlock with all her might.  
“Thank you, Sherlock. That was beautiful. And your ledger is clean. Mike just wanted two people to have half of the love and happiness that we had. And you and John are two of the happiest and most besotted people that we know. Besides, he loved to boast about how he really knew you to his students.” Sherlock chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. He hugged James and Holly before returning to his husband. John threaded his fingers through Sherlock and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.  
“That was beautiful.” John said. Sherlock nodded, but John noted a small tear on his cheek.


	11. Epilouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another ten years go by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter. Wow. What a journey. I am so glad that you could all take it with me. Thank you to mafm for making it so much better. I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Please, comment away. I would love to know if you read the whole thing or not. And what you thought of my first "published" work.

Epilogue

Another Ten Years Later

John and Sherlock sat in their chairs watching the young couple dance. Sherlock threaded his hand with John’s.  
“She’s so young.” Sherlock said.  
“She is.” John agreed. “But she’s in love.”  
“I can’t believe that if that was Jane you would allow this.” Sherlock said. John laughed.  
“They would be about the same age.” John said. “Besides, MJ is a different girl than Jane would have been. She’s intelligent. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. And several uncles who would make his body disappear in a moment if he ever hurt her.” Sherlock laughed.  
“Too bad Mycroft is retired. He would have made him piss himself.” Sherlock chewed on his lip. “Maybe I should have borrowed a page from his book and kidnapped him and had a talk.”  
“I’m glad you didn’t. Molly would have beaten you herself.” John picked up his glass and raised it at Molly and Rob. They were beaming as their daughter danced with her husband for the first time.   
“Do you ever regret not having more children?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes and no. I would have loved to have raised a child with you. It would have… interesting. And to see someone small with your curls and raven hair. But I think we were too old. I’m glad we didn’t.”  
“He would have been blonde. Like you.” Sherlock said. John narrowed his eyes.  
“Do you regret it?” he asked.   
“No. I think I feel the same as you. We have two wonderful nieces and a nephew that has inherited the Holmes’ intelligence. I love being with them, but I do not for a moment regret the nappies, the bottles or the teenage hormones. Listening to Sherrinford bemoan his trials with Camilla a few years ago was enough to put anyone off.” John sniggered.  
“Yeah. One of you is more than I can handle.” John said.  
“Handle?” Sherlock asked. Greg came to sit down next to Sherlock.  
“What’s the argument now?” he asked.   
“Children.” Sherlock said.  
“Tell you what, anytime you want to try your hand at child rearing, either of my boys would give their kids in a second for free babysitting. I thought raising two boys who were three years apart was bad. Poor Henry is having a tough go with twins. Especially at two and mobile. And Peter with a four year old and a one year old… I don’t envy it at all at our age.” John laughed.  
“I couldn’t imagine it ten years ago.” Greg raised his beer at John.  
“That’s why grand parenting is great. Give them back at the end of the day.”  
“Papa Greg.” John bemused. “Fitting.”  
“Tosser.” Greg sent back.  
“Are you and An joining us at Mycroft’s next month?” Sherlock asked.  
“Do you think An would pass up the opportunity to go to France? And to spend time with Harry and Mycroft?” Greg chuckled.  
“Never.” Sherlock said.  
“It will be good to be all together. It’s been too long since we all went somewhere together.” Greg said.  
“It will.” John agreed.  
***********************************

Sherlock placed his bookmark in his page and put the book down on the bedside table. He removed his glasses and folded them placing them next to the book. John mirrored his actions and turned out the light. They settled down into the bed. John ran his hand through Sherlock’s shortened and silver streaked hair. In the almost thirty years he had known Sherlock, he had only gotten more handsome, his eyes weakening some with age and his hair, now kept shorter greying in a distinguished way. John had gone greyer then stopped. Neither of them looked their advanced age. And they were as in love now as they always had been.  
Sherlock traced John’s cheek with his fingertip and leaned in to kiss him.  
“I love you.” He said.  
“Sentimental this evening.” John said.  
“Weddings.” Sherlock scoffed.  
“They do that.” John smiled.  
“That they do, husband.” Sherlock said. He curled into John and let out a sigh. John stroked Sherlock hair a bit. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing. Just thinking.”  
“About what?” Sherlock asked.  
“Us.”  
“A little more specific, if you please.”  
“I was just thinking about everything we have been through. And how I wouldn’t change one iota of it.”  
“Neither would I.” Sherlock said.  
“I love you.” John said.  
“I love you too. Now shut it. I want to sleep.”  
“Wanker.”  
“Prick.” They both smiled and drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, a smile playing at their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Please subscribe if you did, as this is only the beginning.  
> Thank you all for the love!


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